.     . 

£****        j 


3ERTKMKD  SMITH 

14O  Pacific  Ave. 

LONG  BEACH, 

CALIFORNIA 


BROTHERS   AND   STRANGERS 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS 

BY 

AGNES   BLAKE   POOR 


(DOROTHY  PRESCOTT) 


"The  tallest  flower  that  skyward  rears  its  head, 
Grows  from  the  common  earth,  and  there  must  shed 
Its  delicate  petals." 

Hartley  Coleridge 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS 
1893 


Copyright,  1S93, 
BY  ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 


2Smbersttg  Arrest 

JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


BROTHERS    AND    STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

FROM  MRS.  BUTLER  TO  ARTHUR  BUTLER. 

LIVERPOOL,  N  Y.,  April  5,  188-. 

MY  DEAR  SON,  —  I  was  glad  to  hear  by  your 
last  that  you  were  in  good  health,  and 
that  your  worldly  prospects  look  so  bright.  I  only 
hope  you  spare  some  time  to  reflect  on  the  great 
concern  of  your  soul's  salvation.  Believe,  oh,  be- 
lieve an  affectionate  mother's  word,  that  it  is  best  to 
seek  the  Lord  in  your  youth.  It  is  a  constant  grief 
to  me  that  only  one  of  my  dear  children  as  yet 
cherishes  a  hope  ;  but  my  daily  prayer  is  that  I  may 
meet  you  all  in  heaven.  I  have  much  anxiety  and 
trouble  at  present,  and  am  very  fatigued  ;  but  I 
know  that  in  this  world  I  must  expect  tribulation. 
I  wrote  you  fully  after  the  arrival  of  dear  Orlando 
and  his  little  family,  and  dropped  you  a  postal  tell- 
ing of  the  birth  of  Ida's  babe,  but  have  not  had 
time  to  write  a  letter  since,  though  I  have  com- 


2047042 


8  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

menced  several.  It  is  a  lovely  but  very  delicate 
infant,  and  its  dear  young  mother  was  so  sick  at  the 
time  of  its  birth  that  she  has  never  been  able  to 
nurse  it,  and  we  have  to  bring  it  up  on  the  bottle, 
and  it  is  very  hard  to  find  a  food  that  will  agree 
with  it ;  its  cries  are  distressing.  You  will  be 
much  pleased  to  hear  that  Orlando  and  Ida  have 
decided  to  name  it  Arthur,  after  you.  The  other 
children  are  very  well,  though  they  have  frequent 
colds  and  attacks  of  indigestion. 

Almira  was  here  last  week  with  her  dear  little  girl ; 
she  said  John  was  too  busy  to  come.  They  are  all 
well,  and  John  seems  uncommonly  prosperous. 
Almira  brought  me  a  very  lovely  cream  pitcher  from 
the  store,  that  must  have  been  worth  at  least  seventy- 
five  cents  at  sale.  I  thought  she  was  dressed  too 
much  for  a  church  member,  and  disliked  to  see  the 
little  Laurea  so  expensively  arrayed.  I  felt  it  my 
duty  to  speak  about  it,  and  hope  what  I  said  may 
have  a  good  effect.  They  have  asked  me  to  make 
them  a  visit,  and  I  shall  go  [D.  V.]  as  soon  as 
Orlando  has  found  another  parish.  He  has  not 
been  able  to  make  any  effort  to  seek  for  one,  he  has 
been  so  occupied  with  the  care  of  his  wife.  Oh,  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  that  dear  Jonah  is  here  too.  He 
has  left  his  place,  and  does  not  wish  to  return  to 
Cazenovia.  I  am  sorry  he  could  not  have  stayed 
on  a  little  longer,  but  the  food  they  gave  him  was 
very  poor,  and  Jonah  is  not  very  well,  though  he 
looks  healthy.  I  am  afraid  John  will  not  be  able  to 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  9 

find  him  another  place  ;  could  you  not  get  some- 
thing for  him  to  do  in  Boston?  I  think  he  might 
like  it  there  better,  and  then  you  could  look  after 
him.  I  dread  his  being  exposed  to  the  temptations 
of  a  city,  more  especially  as  he  is  not  yet  a  profess- 
ing Christian.  May  that  blest  day  soon  arrive  !  I 
have  no  girl  at  present,  and  find  the  work  rather 
beyond  my  strength,  though  Flora,  Ida's  sister,  who 
came  with  them,  does  all  she  can  to  help  me.  She 
is  a  very  sweet  girl.  Of  course  my  expenses  are 
much  increased  with  so  large  a  family,  and  I  must 
beg  you,  if  it  is  not  too  much  trouble,  and  you  can 
perfectly  well  afford  it,  to  send  me  a  small  sum  in 
addition  to  the  regular  allowance  you  so  kindly 
make  me,  as  I  dread  the  disgrace  of  getting  into 
debt  more  than  anything  else.  Orlando  and  Jonah 
send  their  love,  and  I  am 

Your  affectionate  mother. 

Mr.  ARTHUR  BUTLER, 
Ames  Building,  Boston,  Mass. 

Arthur  Butler  was  not  a  man  given  to 
show  his  feelings  in  his  face;  but  as  he 
slowly  read  for  the  second  time  the  above 
letter,  written  in  a  fine  copy-book  hand,  and 
closely  squeezed  on  to  the  smallest  possible 
scrap  of  thin  blue  ruled  paper,  he  looked 
gloomy  enough.  He  was  not  at  his  office, 
to  which  it  was  addressed,  but  in  his  apart- 
ment in  a  large  old-fashioned  house  on  the 


IO     BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS, 

eastern  slope  of  Beacon  Hill,  with  a  view, 
over  the  crest,  of  ^he  waving  trees  on  the 
Common.  It  was  a  handsome  room,  and 
though  somewhat  bare  to  a  modern  eye, 
everything  in  it,  the  furniture,  the  books, 
the  pictures,  were  good  of  their  kind.  The 
care  which  was  evidently  taken  of  them  was 
greater  than  masculine  nature  is  generally 
willing  to  bestow  on  its  belongings,  and 
seemed  to  mark  their  owner  as  not  only  a 
bachelor,  but  an  old  one.  Arthur,  however, 
was  but  two-and-thirty.  He  had  come  up 
town  earlier  than  usual  for  a  particular 
reason ;  but  though  pressed  for  time,  he  sat 
down,  and  deliberately,  but  with  no  hesi- 
tation, wrote  an  answer  on  the  thickest  of 
white  paper,  in  a  firm,  decided  hand,  legi- 
ble, but  characteristic ;  read  it  over  once, 
and  then  without  making  addition  or  era- 
sure, folded,  sealed,  and  addressed  it.  It 
ran  as  follows :  — 

Beacon  Street,  BOSTON,  April  7,  188-. 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  am  sorry  that  you  feel 
under  the  necessity  of  applying  to  me  for  further 
assistance.  You  know  that  I  have  never  grudged 
you  anything  that  was  in  my  power  to  give.  I  did 
not  expect  that  John,  so  long  as  you  declined  his 
offer  of  a  home  in  his  family,  would  feel  called  upon 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  1 1 

to  do  anything  for  you  outside ;  but  I  did  not 
wonder  that  you  preferred  one  of  your  own,  and  as 
soon  as  I  was  able,  I  established  you  in  your  own 
old  house,  and  insured  you  a  comfortable  income, 
safe  from  anything  that  might  happen  to  me.  It 
was  enough  to  enable  you  to  live  in  comfort  in 
Liverpool,  and  keep  a  servant ;  but  I  certainly  did 
not  allow  for  its  supporting  seven  other  people  in 
addition.  If  Orlando  chose  to  marry  young  and 
burden  himself  with  children  before  he  was  able 
properly  to  maintain  them,  he  ought  not  to  look  to 
me  to  help  him  out.  I  am  older  than  he,  and. if  I 
had  the  means,  might  very  likely  wish  to  marry 
myself,  which  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  if  I  am  to 
be  at  the  expense  of  supporting  him  and  his  family, 
including,  it  seems,  his  wife's  relations.  As  for 
Jonah,  he  ought  at  least  to  be  able  to  take  care  of 
himself,  when  nothing  more  is  expected  of  him. 
They  should  consider  that  it  is  you  on  whom  they 
are  living,  and  that  what  they  take  diminishes  your 
comfort  by  just  so  much ;  and  if  they  have  any 
manly  feeling  left  they  will  bestir  themselves  a 
little. 

Under  the  circumstances,  I  do  not  think  it  wise 
to  increase  your  income ;  it  would  only  be  giving  it 
to  them,  and  that  is  the  same  thing  as  throwing  it 
into  the  sea.  I  have  already  done  all  I  can  for 
them,  and  more  than  they  had  a  right  to  look  for. 
I  am  very  sorry  that  you  should  be  exposed  to  morti- 
fications and  annoyances  which  you  ought  to  have 


12  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

been  spared.  I  presume  from  what  you  say  that 
you  have  already  incurred  debts,  and  look  to  me  to 
pay  them.  I  shall  only  be  willing  to  do  this  upon 
the  security  that  I  shall  not  be  liable  to  be  called 
on  again.  I  think  the  best  thing  to  do  will  be  for 
me  to  run  on  and  see  how  things  stand  with  my 
own  eyes.  I  can  leave  here  Thursday  in  the  night 
train,  and  stay  over  Sunday  with  you.  I  will  stop 
in  Syracuse  and  talk  with  John  about  it ;  but  I 
want  you  to  understand  that  I  have  not  the  least 
desire  that  you  should  live  with  him  if  you  do  not 
wish  to.  Perhaps  it  will  be  best  for  you  to  let  the 
house  and  board  somewhere ;  but  we  can  decide 
this  when  we  meet. 

Do  not  trouble  yourself  to  prepare  a  room  for 
me ;  you  must  be  full  enough,  and  I  can  put  up  at 
Kemp's  for  the  brief  time  of  my  stay. 

Believe  me  ever  your  affectionate  son, 

ARTHUR  BUTLER. 

Mrs.  JOHN  BUTLER, 
Liverpool,  New  York. 

After  finishing  his  letter,  and  dressing  him- 
self with  scrupulous  attention,  he  went  out, 
carrying  it  in  his  hand.  Light  as  a  feather  as 
it  was,  it,  or  what  it  recalled,  weighed  like 
lead  on  his  heart.  Arthur  Butler  was  not, 
strictly  speaking,  handsome,  but  he  drew 
attention  in  any  crowd,  and  was  looked  at 
twice  by  every  woman  he  met ;  for  a  certain 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  13 

air  of  distinction,  that  lay  not  so  much  in  the 
careful  but  easy  elegance  of  his  toilet  and  all 
his  appurtenances,  and  the  grace  with  which 
he  carried  his  slight  but  muscular  figure, 
looking  tall,  though  not  much  over  middle 
height,  as  in  an  elevation  of  expression 
which,  with  the  low,  slow,  perfect  modulations 
of  his  voice,  and  his  condescending  courtesy 
of  manner,  impressed  those  who  met  him 
deeply,  and  more  or  less  pleasantly  accord- 
ing as  he  himself  was  pleased  or  displeased, 
and  made  them  say  of  him,  with  varying  sig- 
nificance, that  he  was  a  "  born  and  bred 
aristocrat." 

He  never  looked  more  so  than  at  this 
moment,  with  his  face  darkened  by  a  not 
unbecoming  shadow.  It  was  a  fine  example 
of  the  irony  of  nature  that  his  thoughts  were 
running  on  his  boyish  days,  when  he  used, 
cold  and  hungry,  or  hot  and  thirsty,  accord- 
ing to  the  season,  to  peddle  baskets,  the 
staple  of  Liverpool,  made  by  himself,  through 
the  streets  of  the  neighboring  city  of  Syra- 
cuse. With  the  capacity  of  memory  to  take 
in  a  world  at  once,  he  saw  himself  in  a  dozen 
different  phases,  —  sweeping  out  the  village 
grocery  store,  and  carrying  home  parcels  in 
the  intervals  of  the  district  school;  grown 


14  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

older,  doing  similar  work  in  a  country  lawyer's 
office,  and  picking  up  what  law  he  could  be- 
tween times;  putting  himself  through  college, 
teaching  in  all  his  vacations,  and  book- 
keeping, copying,  and  what  not,  in  all  his  odd 
moments,  while  he  won  scholarship  after 
scholarship  by  sheer  hard  work,  for  he  was 
not  quick  ;  all  this  since  he  had  made  up  his 
mind,  a  little,  poorly  fed,  half  clad  boy  of 
seven  years  old,  the  day  his  father's  shabby 
funeral  train  had  left  behind  an  almost  empty 
house,  that  he  would  never  be  a  poor  man. 

The  opening  and  sharp  sudden  snap  of  a 
post-box  lid  dispersed  with  a  start  the  dreams 
of  his  boyish  home,  and  as  he  walked  with  a 
quickened  step  down  the  long  slope  of  Beacon 
Hill,  toward  the  setting  sun,  the  clouds  rolled 
away  from  his  face  as  from  his  heart,  both 
set  forward  to  an  anticipated  pleasure.  He 
crossed  the  Public  Garden,  fresh  with  budding 
leaves  and  bright  with  spring  flowers,  and 
stopped  in  Commonwealth  Avenue,  where 
the  doors  of  the  great  Griswold  house  were 
thrown  wide  open  to  a  surging  crowd,  and 
the  Griswolds,  devoutly  hoping  that  no  one 
had  by  any  ill  chance  been  forgotten,  were 
receiving  and  "  doing  up  "  all  who  could  by 
any  possibility  consider  themselves  entitled 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  15 

to  be  asked  to  meet  a  son  of  the  house  and 
his  bride  from  New  York.  As  is  usually  the 
case  at  such  assemblages,  the  mixture  was  a 
promiscuous  one,  —  of  every  set,  and  some  of 
no  set  at  all.  People  ran  against  those  they 
had  long  thought  dead,  exchanged  affection- 
ate greetings  with  those  with  whom  they 
were  not  on  speaking  terms,  cut  their  own 
uncles  and  aunts,  overlooked  those  they  were 
looking  for,  and  miscalled  half  their  friends. 
No  such  mistakes  were  made  by  Arthur 
Butler,  or  if  made  were  never  detected,  as  he 
threaded  the  crowd,  grave,  courteous,  re- 
sponsive, with  a  quick  eye  to  recognize,  and 
a  few  well  chosen  words  for  every  one  he 
knew.  His  acquaintance  was  numerous,  if 
select,  and  he  was  greeted  at  every  turn ;  but 
he  could  disengage  himself  from  a  conversa- 
tion as  easily  as  he  could  take  it  up.  No  one 
detained  him  long,  nor  indeed  seemed  to  ex- 
pect to  do  so ;  and  when  he  finally  made  his 
way  to  the  goal  of  his  wishes  at  the  side  of 
Miss  Sophy  Curtis,  it  was  with  the  tacit  ap- 
proval of  all  lookers-on,  and  of  the  young 
lady  herself,  who  looked  up  with  a  smile  of 
welcome  that  gave  its  fairest  aspect  to  her 
honest,  homely  face. 

Miss  Curtis  was    not  beautiful,    nor   very 


1 6  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

young,  nor  very  rich,  nor  very  fashionable, 
and  Arthur  Butler  was  not  at  all  in  love  with 
her ;  but  he  thoroughly  liked,  respected,  and 
admired  her,  and  hoped  to  make  her  his  wife. 
Fashion  he  did  not  care  for,  —  it  implied  an 
uneasy  strain  to  keep  one's  self  before  the 
public  eye,  which  shocked  his  fastidious  taste, 
and  to  which  the  comfortable,  sheltered,  easy, 
well-assured  position  of  the  Curtises  was  in- 
finitely superior.  If  he  disliked  anything 
worse  than  the  hard  wooden  made-up  faces, 
the  stiff  costly  raiment,  the  loud  flippant  re- 
partees of  the  married  women  of  uncertain 
age,  precious  in  their  ugliness  as  Byzantine 
Madonnas,  who  led  the  present  style,  it  was 
to  see  the  unmarried  girls  trying  to  imitate 
them.  As  to  beauty,  he  had  little  to  say  to 
the  blushing  rose-buds  of  the  garden,  who 
were,  indeed,  somewhat  afraid  of  him.  The 
frank  cordiality  of  Sophy's  plain  pleasant 
face,  and  the  through  and  through  freshness 
and  neatness  of  her  simple  but  well  chosen 
attire,  which  threw  an  air  of  refinement  over 
her  vigorous  health,  satisfied  him  thoroughly. 
He  had  too  much  pride  to  relish  the  idea  of 
marrying  an  heiress ;  but  her  inheritance  as 
one  of  the  many  children  of  a  man  well-to-do 
in  business,  with  a  comfortable  property  to 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  17 

fall  back  upon,  would  help,  not  encumber,  a 
husband's  ambition.  Then  she  had  further 
expectations,  not  sufficiently  certain  to  mark 
him  as  a  fortune-hunter,  and  by  a  curious 
conjunction  of  circumstances  so  much  more 
likely  to  be  gratified  if  she  married  him  than 
if  she  married  anybody  else  that  the  match 
might  be  said  to  be  for  her  interest,  too. 
Altogether  the  thing  had  a  fitness  about  it 
which  almost  tempted  him  to  believe  that  the 
woman  brought  up  in  luxurious  ease,  to  the 
best  the  world  could  give,  widely  travelled, 
assiduously  taught,  and  the  man  who  had 
fought  every  inch  of  his  toilsome  way  up- 
ward, were  "  predestinated  mates." 

As  they  stood  together  now,  he  looked  the 
finer  clay  than  she.  His  grand  air  was  his 
great  charm  in  Sophy's  eyes.  She  knew 
that,  as  the  common  phrase  goes,  he  had 
made  himself;  but  then,  so  had  her  own 
grandfather;  and  her  critical  faculty  was  not 
sufficiently  developed  to  weigh  the  difference 
in  antecedents  and  starting-point  between  a 
boy  growing  up  sixty  years  ago  on  his  father's 
well-tilled  farm  on  the  richest  lands  in  Ver- 
mont, and  one  of  the  present  day  left  twenty- 
five  years  ago  fatherless  and  penniless  in  a 
little  town  in  New  York.  There  was  no  de- 


1 8  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

sign  at  concealment  on  Arthur's  part;  the 
reason  that  he  so  seldom  mentioned  his  re- 
lations was  simply  that  the)''  did  not  interest 
him,  and  he  did  not  expect  them  to  interest 
other  people ;  and  Sophy,  when  she  thought 
of  them  at  all,  classed  them  with  the  distant 
Curtis  cousins  in  Vermont,  who  were  mostly 
plain,  well-to-do  people  of  good  standing  in 
their  respective  towns  and  villages,  and  with 
whom  the  wealthy  Boston  branch  of  the 
family,  though  meeting  them  but  seldom, 
was  on  the  very  best  of  terms. 

"  Have  you  been  able  to  find  the  maps?  " 
she  asked  with  interest,  as  soon  as  the  first 
greetings  had  been  exchanged. 

"  Yes,  very  nice  ones,  I  should  think,  — 
one  of  the  world  on  Mercator's  projection, 
and  one  in  hemispheres,  —  both  on  a  good 
large  scale." 

"  Thank  you  ;  that  will  be  delightful ;  and 
we  will  begin  with  the  Norsemen  and  Leif 
Eiriksson.  I  will  get  out  some  of  Cousin 
Rachel's  Norwegian  photographs." 

"And  I  can  borrow  some  good  ones  of 
Iceland  and  Greenland  from  Mr.  Hitch- 
cock, who  went  in  the  Bowdoin  College 
Expedition." 

"  How  very  kind !     I  will  take  the  greatest 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  19 

care  of  them  ;  but  we  may  have  to  keep 
them  over  two  times,  if  he  does  not  mind." 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  asked  Mr.  Hitch- 
cock to  come  and  explain  them  himself 
next  Friday?  I  fear  I  cannot  come  that 
evening." 

"  Oh,  why  not?  "  asked  the  young  lady, 
surprised  ;  "  where  are  you  going  ?  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  she  added,  hastily,  correcting 
herself. 

"  I  find  I  must  go  to  Liverpool  to  see  my 
mother.  I  am  afraid  she  is  not  very  well." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Sophy,  with  a  look 
of  just  the  proper  amount  of  concern. 

"  It  is  nothing  serious,  I  hope  ;  but  I  can- 
not be  easy  without  seeing  for  myself." 

"  No,  indeed !  "  said  Sophy,  who  supposed 
Arthur  Butler,  in  addition  to  all  his  other 
virtues,  must  be  the  most  devoted  of  sons. 
"  We  shall  miss  you ;  but  of  course  it  cannot 
be  helped.  Perhaps  before  you  leave,  you 
will  give  us  some  idea  of  how  far  we  have  to 
go,  for  I  am  afraid  I  can  never  manage  Eirik 
the  Red  without  you ;  but  I  dare  say  we  can 
fill  up  one  evening  with  the  early  Norsemen 
and  the  settlement  of  Iceland." 

"  Miss  Curtis  was  so  kind  as  to  ask  me  to 
dinner,  to-night,  and  she  added  to  her  kind- 


2O  BROTHERS  AXD   STRANGERS. 

ness  by  telling  me  I  was  to  meet  you.  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  help  you  in  any  way.'' 

"  That  will  be  very  nice,"  said  the  young 
lady,  frankly;  "  and  you  will  be  back,  per- 
haps, before  the  next  time." 

"  I  shall  come  back  as  soon  as  I  possibly 
can,  you  may  be  very  sure." 

There  was  something  so  meaning  in  his 
tone  that  Sophy  colored  all  over  ;  her  healthy, 
blooming  face  lacked  the  delicacy  of  texture 
which  makes  a  blush  really  becoming  ;  but 
still  the  slight  confusion  which  softened  her 
usually  self-reliant,  unsentimental  expression, 
was  pleasing  in  the  young  man's  eyes.  Per- 
haps, too,  she  reaped  some  advantage  from 
her  lover's  family  troubles,  which  by  throw- 
ing difficulties  in  the  way,  fostered  that  lover- 
like  impatience  which  might  otherwise  have 
hardly  enlivened  the  course  of  so  smooth 
and  satisfactory  a  wooing.  He  had  been 
feeling  his  way  with  caution,  but  now  he  be- 
gan to  see  it  so  clear  before  him,  that  were  it 
not  for  this  vexatious  going  to  Liverpool 
hanging  over  him,  he  might  almost  have  been 
tempted  to  speak  out  plainly  now.  They 
had  stopped  to  hold  their  little  parley,  and 
the  surging  crowd,  impatient  of  any  obstacle, 
had  swept  them  a  little  out  of  the  direct  route 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  21 

to  the  tea-room,  into  a  corner  recess,  where 
they  were  practically  free  from  being  over- 
heard or  interrupted ;  but  it  was  not  in  his 
nature  to  trust  to  chance  opportunities  like 
this  ;  he  would  have  every  advantage  of 
place  and  time,  particularly  as  the  accept- 
ance, which  he  without  undue  presumption 
expected,  would  at  once  entail  a  good  deal 
of  business. 

Sophy  asked  for  no  more ;  he  had  said 
enough,  and  looked  enough  to  make  her  con- 
tent in  waiting  for  his  return ;  and  there  was 
a  happy  flutter  in  her  voice  as  she  said,  "  I 
think  I  must  look  for  Cousin  Rachel,  now,  for 
I  am  sure  she  must  want  to  go  —  Ah,  there 
she  is !  "  as  a  lady  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room  nodded  to  Arthur  with  a  look  of  fami- 
liar acquaintance  and  pleased  approval,  while 
both  young  people  did  their  best  to  join  her 
with  as  little  delay  as  possible.  She  was 
twenty-five  years  older  than  her  young  cou- 
sin, but  was,  even  now,  a  much  handsomer 
woman.  Her  tall  well-rounded  figure,  thick 
silver-gray  hair,  fresh  fair  skin,  fine  eyes,  fine 
teeth,  all  well  preserved  by  unremitting  care 
and  the  assistance  of  experts  in  every  line  of 
treatment,  and  set  off  by  the  rich,  sombre, 
glowing  hues  of  her  dark  red  cashmere  and 


22  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

velvet  costume,  gave  the  imposing  effect  of 
undecayed  maturity.  Her  presence  was  no 
impediment  to  Arthur's  love-making,  —  rather 
an -incentive,  though  she  was  the  real  lady  of 
his  adoration. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  2$ 


CHAPTER   II. 

IV/TISS  RACHEL  CURTIS  was  the  first 
-L*-*-  cousin  of  Sophy's  father.  Her  own 
father,  with  his,  had  come  to  Boston  from 
Vermont  when  young,  and  made  very  good 
fortunes  in  the  grocery  business ;  but  the  elder 
and  leading  partner  of  the  firm  had  more 
largely  increased  his  gains  by  investments,  and 
while  his  brother  had  a  large  family,  who  mar- 
ried and  had  large  families  in  their  turn,  he  had 
left  an  only  daughter,  sole  heiress  to  a  prop- 
erty which,  if  not  entitled  to  be  called  colossal, 
made  a  highly  respectable  figure  in  the  Bos- 
ton tax  lists,  invested  as  it  now  was  in  the 
best  of  real  estate,  bonds  of  the  State  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, Boston  and  Providence  Railway, 
and  other  "  gilt-edged  "  securities.  She  could 
spend  money  with  a  freedom  and  safety  which 
the  possessors  of  more  unlimited  wealth  do  not 
always  enjoy.  She  was  not  born  till  her  father 
was  well  advanced  in  years  and  prosperity, 
and  had  been  left,  still  young,  with  her  entire 
fortune  under  her  own  control ;  and  she  had 


24  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

never  found  any  difficulty  in  managing  the 
principal,  or  in  spending  the  income  so  as  to 
secure  the  largest  possible  amount  of  satis- 
faction for  herself,  and  every  one  who  came 
in  contact  with  her,  with  entire  independence 
as  to  what  others  thought  she  ought  to  do,  or 
might  do,  or  what  they  would  do  in  her  place. 
For  society  in  general  she  cared  but  little, 
having  never  had  any  difficulty  in  surround- 
ing herself  with  the  particular  society  she 
best  liked;  and  though  good-natured,  she 
was  fastidious,  for  daughter  of  a  grocer  as 
she  was,  she  had  enough  refinement  and  cul- 
ture to  serve  for  a  royal  princess,  —  perhaps 
for  two. 

Whether  Miss  Curtis  had  always  been  as 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  her  enviable  place 
in  the  world  as  she  now  appeared  to  be, 
cannot  with  certainty  be  told.  She  had  never 
shown  the  slightest  eagerness  to  purchase 
position  and  rank  at  home  or  abroad,  with 
her  wealth ;  and  it  was  never  known  that  she 
had  had  any  real  love  affair,  though  she  had 
a  very  decided  liking  for  the  society  of  the 
other  sex,  which  now  showed  itself  in  taking 
a  friendly  interest  of  a  highly  beneficent  de- 
scription in  clever  and  attractive  young  men, 
who  in  their  turn  could  often  be  useful  to 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     2$ 

her.  Of  all  these  little  harmless  attachments 
the  strongest  was  that  which  had  drawn  her 
to  Arthur  Butler,  whose  acquaintance  she 
had  made  while  he  was  still  in  college,  at  a 
rather  older  age  than  the  average  under- 
graduate. His  good  looks  and  good  man- 
ners had  pleased  her,  and  the  energy  with 
which,  as  she  discovered,  he  was  struggling 
to  educate  himself  under  so  many  drawbacks 
won  her  respect  and  admiration.  Gladly 
would  she  have  done  more  to  help  him  than 
his  pride  would  allow,  but  no  pride  could 
refuse  what  she  did  give;  she  threw  open 
to  him  her  beautiful  home,  full  of  treasures 
of  literature  and  art,  introduced  him  to 
her  friends,  and  in  a  hundred  delicate  ways 
gave  sympathy,  advice,  encouragement.  She 
helped  him  unobtrusively  to  business  when 
he  began  to  practise  law,  and  the  opening 
wedge  once  inserted,  he  was  well  able  to  get 

o  o 

on.  As  eagerly  did  he  seize  every  hint,  every 
example  of  graceful  and  refined  custom  in 
Miss  Curtis's  sphere,  and  grasp,  though 
lightly,  at  the  delicate  tendrils  by  whose  aid, 
but  without  straining  them,  must  be  climbed 
the  flowery  steeps  of  society.  For  these 
chances  he  felt  more  grateful  to  her  than  for 
anything  else  she  had  done  for  him.  Now, 


26  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

it  seemed  that  he  might  be  drawn  yet  nearer 
to  her  by  relationship  The  Curtises,  pros- 
perous, content,  and  united,  were  not  disposed 
to  cavil  at  any  disposal  Rachel  might  make  of 
her  money,  so  long  as  the  bulk  of  it  remained 
in  the  family.  It  might  suit  her  to  divide  it 
among  her  kinsfolk,  or  choose  one  as  her 
heir ;  and  in  the  latter  case,  Sophy,  the  oldest 
child  of  her  favorite  cousin  and  of  the  espe- 
cial friend  of  her  girlhood,  named  at  her 
request  after  her  own  mother,  and  always 
distinguished  by  her  particular  regard,  might 
well  receive  the  preference.  There  is  a  natu- 
ral wish  to  plan  out  the  disposition  of  one's 
fortune  as  far  as  possible,  and  it  might  make 
some  difference  whom  Sophy  married ;  but 
if  she  married  Arthur  Butler,  a  favorite  him- 
self, their  united  claims  would  probably  be 
irresistible.  He  would  not  need  this  added 
merit  to  recommend  him  to  Sophy's  parents. 
Good  girl  as  she  was,  she  had  never  been  par- 
ticularly admired  in  society,  and  was  already 
beginning  to  feel  the  interest  of  an  incipient 
maiden  aunt  in  her  prettier  younger  sister 
Rosamond's  new  establishment  and  new  baby. 
She  did  not  take  this  much  to  heart,  nor  did 
her  parents  for  her.  All  their  girls  were  well 
provided  for,  and  need  not  marry  unless  they 


v     BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  2/ 

wished ;  but  if  they  did  wish  to  marry  any 
well-favored,  well-placed,  well-spoken-of  young 
man,  they  were  sure  of  a  kind  consent  and  a 
generous  fitting-out  Arthur's  personal  claims 
were  beyond  the  common,  and  as  to  his  fam- 
ily, they  would  make  no  difference  ;  if  unde- 
sirable, they  were  at  a  safe  distance.  The 
Curtis  connection  was  so  large  that  there  was 
no  need  of  increasing  it,  and  Sophy  would 
be  glad  to  live  among  her  own  people,  and 
belong  to  them.  Her  feelings  were  begin- 
ning to  be  plain  enough  even  to  herself. 
With  a  double  share  of  modesty,  half  as 
woman,  and  half  as  her  own  individual  self, 
she  could  no  longer  mistake  Arthur's  mean- 
ing. She  had  long  known  and  always  ad- 
mired him,  but  she  had  never  dreamed  of 
him,  nor  indeed  of  any  one  else  as  a  possi- 
ble lover,  and  the  joy  was  greater  when  the 
surprise  came. 

No  one  else  saw  it  more  plainly,  or  with 
more  pleasure,  than  Rachel  Curtis,  who  was 
quite  as  willing  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of 
an  adopted  mother  as  any  one  could  be  to 
have  her.  She  was  very  dependent  on  the 
society  and  attentions  of  both  Sophy  and 
Arthur;  and  this  was  a  sure  way,  and  indeed 
the  only  way,  of  not  losing  either.  She  was 


28  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

no  match-maker,  but  she  felt  a  little  harmless 
pride  in  the  thought  that  the  acquaintance 
had  begun  with  her,  and  that  she  might  be 
supposed  to  be  an  attraction,  though  a  sub- 
sidiary one.  She  did  not  know  how  near  she 
had  come  to  being  a  principal  in  the  affair,  or 
dream  that  for  some  time  Arthur  had  seri- 
ously revolved  in  his  mind  the  question  of 
proposing  marriage  to  her ;  and  that  he  had 
been  deterred,  not  so  much  by  the  dread  of 
the  construction  the  world  might  place  on 
his  motives,  though  this  was  not  without  its 
weight ;  for  he  knew  truly  that  into  such  love- 
making  he  could  have  thrown  more  personal 
devotion,  and  less  self-interest,  than  into  his 
present  more  apparently  suitable  aspirations; 
not  so  much  by  doubts  of  his  ultimate  suc- 
cess, for  his  suit  once  opened,  he  felt  he  had 
the  will  and  power  to  carry  it  through;  but 
from  a  terror  of  the  beginning.  Miss  Curtis's 
first  look  of  blank  amazement,  perhaps  of 
ridicule,  when  he  should  have  succeeded  in 
making  her  understand  what  he  meant,  would 
keep  rising  before  him.  He  had  never  found 
courage  to  encounter  it,  and  had  at  last  set- 
tled on  what  was  safely  within  his  reach,  and 
the  more  ostensible  choice.  There  would 
always  be  a  little  mixture  of  sentiment  in  his 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  2Q 

relations  with  his  wife's  aunt,  all  the  more 
tender  because  of  the  marriage,  and  sure  to 
please  the  future  Mrs.  Arthur  Butler. 

Miss  Curtis,  unsuspicious  of  all  this,  and 
with  her  future  more  full  of  promise  than  it 
is  apt  to  be  after  the  most  prosperous  life  of 
fifty-two  years,  was  the  happiest  of  the  little 
party  of  three,  a  most  sociable  one  for  that 
proverbially  unfortunate  number,  which  gath- 
ered round  her  dinner-table  that  night ;  she  was 
certainly  the  liveliest.  Arthur  was  grave, 
and  Sophy  quiet;  but  that  was  natural  when 
they  were  to  part,  even  for  so  short  a  time ;  and 
she  thought  that  nothing  could  be  prettier  or 
in  better  taste  than  the  courtship  of  her  two 
model  young  people. 

"  Sophy  tells  me  your  mother  is  not  well," 
said  the  hostess,  in  a  tone  of  concern,  as  soon 
as  they  were  fairly  settled  at  the  table. 

"  She  is  not  really  ill ;  but  I  fear  that  she  is 
not  comfortably  situated,  and  that  the  others 
do  not  quite  understand  how  to  make  her  so." 

"  I  am  sure  it  will  do  her  good  to  see  you," 
said  Miss  Curtis,  heartily  ;  "  and  would  you 
mind  taking  charge  of  a  little  present  for  her 
from  me?  It  will  not  be  a  very  large  par- 
cel," she  added,  laughing  ;  "for  I  know  how 
much  men  dislike  that." 


30  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"Thank  you.  Of  course  I  shall  be  only 
too  happy  to  take  anything  you  are  so  kind 
as  to  send." 

"  It  is  a  great  favorite  of  mine,  and  if  she 
is  confined  to  her  room,  perhaps  she  will 
enjoy  having  it  by  her." 

"  Your  thinking  of  her  will  give  her  great 
pleasure,  I  know." 

"  You  must  tell  us  just  how  far  to  go  on 
Friday,"  said  Sophy,  as  her  cousin  was 
silent. 

"  I  could  write  out  a  little  outline  for  you 
to  refer  to,  but  there  will  be  no  need  of  it. 
You  have  planned  out  quite  enough  for  one 
evening." 

"  The  boys  will  miss  you,  I  am  sure ;  but 
I  shall  put  them  on  their  good  behavior, 
by  promising  to  report  to  you  when  you 
come  back." 

"Don't  you  think  they  improve?"  asked 
Miss  Curtis. 

"Yes — I  think  there  is  some  progress," 
said  Arthur,  doubtfully. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  there  is !  "  cried  Sophy. 
"  Don't  you  remember  how  troublesome 
Willie  Maclntyre  used  to  be?  And  now  he 
is  so  attentive.  And  those  two  little  Rosen- 
baum  boys,  they  were  perfectly  stolid, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     31 

and  now  they  do  show  a  great  deal  of 
interest." 

"  They  are  interested  enough,  if  that  were 
all;  but  I  should  like  to  see  them  able  to 
make  themselves  behave  a  little  better  when 
they  are  not  being  amused." 

"  Oh,  poor  little  fellows !  what  can  you 
expect?  Just  think  what  homes  they  come 
from.  Willie's  father  is  dead,  and  his  mother 
has  no  control  over  her  boys ;  she  lets  them 
roam  the  streets,  and  only  frets  at  them  in  a 
way  that  is  worse  than  saying  nothing.  I  am 
sure  it  is  ruining  Allan." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Curtis,  "  I  wish  we  could 
have  got  any  hold  on  Allan  Maclntyre  before 
he  grew  so  wild.  But  I  do  not  suppose  he 
would  come  to  the  class,  even  if  I  dared  risk 
him  there,  to  injure  the  others,  perhaps.  You 
must  try  to  get  at  him,  Arthur ;  a  man  might 
do  something  with  him." 

The  conversation  ran  on  about  the  fruitful 
topic  of  the  members  of  an  evening  class 
which  Miss  Curtis  entertained  weekly  at  her 
own  house,  selected  from  the  most  promis- 
ing (not  always  the  best-behaved)  of  the 
many  poor  boys  in  whom  she  took  an  inter- 
est. She  made  no  distinctions;  and  French- 
Canadian,  Irish,  German,  Italian,  —  even 


32      BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

colored,  of  all  shades,  were  impartially  ad- 
mitted ;  the  only  test  being  whether  they 
enjoyed  the  entertainment  provided  for  them, 
—  at  present  a  course  of  historical  and  geo- 
graphical talks  on  the  great  discoverers  of 
the  world,  —  sufficiently  to  make  them  come 
regularly  and  listen  with  some  attention.  It 
had  worked  very  well.  The  elegance  of  the 
surroundings,  and  Miss  Curtis's  commanding 
presence,  tamed  the  boys  down  ;  Sophy,  well 
trained  by  younger  brothers,  had  a  free,  pleas- 
ant understanding  with  them  which  won  their 
confidence  ;  and  Arthur's  unwavering  firm- 
ness under  his  quiet  manner  was  a  check  on 
the  unruly.  He  had  the  power  of  controlling 
others  which  comes  with  self-control ;  and 
his,  as  he  used  to  think  with  pride,  was  abso- 
lute ;  it  had  been  bought  at  the  cost  of  too 
many  hard  knocks  that  must  be  silently 
borne. 

He  grew  silent  now  while  Miss  Curtis  and 
Sophy  lingered  on  their  favorite  theme,  the 
tastes  and  characters  of  the  boys  ;  for  some- 
how when  they  were  on  this  topic,  his  early 
memories  grew  stronger,  and  he  always  felt 
like  one  of  the  little  ragamuffins,  whose 
orphan  state,  and  wretched  home,  and  scant 
and  starved  condition,  were  the  objects  of  so 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  33 

much  compassion,  —  kind,  but  uncompre- 
hending. They  talked  as  those  do  who  have 
never  known  what  it  is  to  want  a  meal ;  hardly 
what  it  is  to  eat  a  badly  cooked  one.  The 
surroundings  were  perfect;  no  glare,  no  os- 
tentation. The  room  was  neither  so  bare  as 
to  look  large,  nor  so  crowded  as  to  look 
small,  but  gave  a  sense  of  spaciousness  and 
snugness  at  once.  The  soft,  dispersed  light; 
the  faint  fresh  wafts  of  perfume  from  flowers, 
some  seen,  some  unseen ;  the  delicate  prep- 
arations which  gave  the  sense  of  taste  a 
gratification  not  less  refined  ;  the  quiet,  easy 
serving,  which  anticipated  every  wish,  —  these 
were  the  luxuries  which  Arthur  Butler  prized. 
He  had  always  craved  them  even  when  he 
knew  less  about  them.  If  one  only  had  them, 
he  thought,  it  might  be  possible  to  do  without 
gold-plate  or  Bohemian  glass ;  but  they  were 
not  less  expensive.  Wax  candles  and  hot- 
house roses  cost  a  great  deal  of  money ;  and 
so  did  such  servants  as  Miss  Curtis  employed. 
Indeed,  so  did  Miss  Curtis  and  Sophy  them- 
selves. Their  dresses  looked  simple  enough, 
but  the  absolute  unconsciousness  with  which 
they  were  worn,  as  if  they  were  so  surely 
the  right  thing  that  once  put  on  they  might 
be  safely  forgotten  altogether,  the  way  in 


34     BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

which  they  brought  out  every  point  that 
would  bear  inspection,  and  dexterously  sub- 
dued those  that  would  not,  so  that  with  all 
Sophy's  lack  of  any  real  beauty,  she  was 
an  attractive  object,  —  these  were  expensive, 
without  doubt.  Even  the  tact  and  grace  with 
which  his  hostess,  when  she  found  his  answers 
brief  and  his  mind  apparently  abstracted, 
passed  from  the  subject  which  did  not  seem 
to  interest  him,  to  others  more  likely  to  bring 
him  out,  and  to  lead  to  conversation  not  so 
grave  as  to  be  depressing,  and  not  so  gay  as 
to  be  out  of  harmony  with  whatever  secret 
anxieties  he  might  be  feeling,  —  even  the 
subtly  soothing  influences  of  her  voice  and 
manner,  seemed  to  him  the  last  crowning 
achievement  of  well-spent  wealth. 

"  Without  money,"  he  thought,  "  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  living — to  call  living!" 
and  his  money  must  be  won  by  his  own 
hard  work,  —  the  harder,  because  his  self- 
respect  would  not  allow  him  to  forget  what 
was  due  to  his  mother,  and  what  was  due  to 
himself  in  providing  for  her. 

Miss  Curtis,  as  she  bade  him  a  kind  good-by, 
gave  him  the  parcel  to  which  she  had  alluded, 
—  a  square  flat  one,  done  up  with  most  ex- 
quisite nicety,  indicating  a  picture  within  ;  and 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  35 

accompanied  it  with  various  friendly  messages. 
As  he  lingered,  loath  to  go,  and  his  eyes 
upon  Sophy  while  he  talked  to  her  cousin, 
he  seemed  to  take  in  the  whole  image  of 
the  scene,  as  a  parting  sailor  does  that  of  his 
home.  He  may  be  away  for  years;  but 
Arthur  was  coming  back  in  five  days  at 
most;  and  it  was  not  likely  that  he  should 
forget,  or  find  when  he  returned  again  that 
anything  had  changed.  The  remembrance 
clung  to  him  through  a  day  of  hurried  prep- 
aration, and  hovered  like  a  dream  before  his 
half-sleeping,  half-waking  eyes  in  the  roaring 
rush  of  the  night  train.  The  chill  air  of 
early  morning,  hanging  like  gray  mist  over 
the  dirty  old  station  at  Syracuse,  dispelled 
the  vision,  and  he  set  his  face  forward  to  the 
task  of  the  hour. 

The  morning  train  for  Liverpool  did  not 
leave  for  some  hours  ;  but  he  had  enough 
to  fill  up  the  time.  He  went  to  a  hotel,  took 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  biscuit,  and  made  a 
very  careful  and  punctilious  toilet  before  he 
set  out  again  into  the  principal  business  street, 
an  unwonted  figure  at  that  hour.  He  paused 
before  a  large,  thriving-looking  shop,  whose 
wares  were  displayed  under  the  sign  "  Cubitt 
and  Butler's  China  Parlors."  It  was  only 


36  BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS. 

half-past  six,  and  the  front  door  was  closed ; 
but  Arthur  knew  his  way  to  a  side  door  in  an 
alley,  and  was  sure  that  would  be  open,  and 
the  master  within,  arranging  his  stock  with 
the  careful  but  energetic  labor  of  his  own 
hands. 

"  Hullo,  Arthur  !  that  you?  Where  'd  you 
drop  from?  "  was  his  greeting. 

"How  do  you  do,  John?  I  came  from 
Boston  last  night." 

"And  what's  brought  you  here?"  went 
on  the  owner  of  the  shop,  now  hastily  wiping 
his  hands  on  his  blue-checked  apron,  then 
looking  at  his  visitor's.  "  Can't  shake  hands 
with  you,  that's  a  fact;  mine  ain't  clean 
enough,  before  breakfast;  but  I'm  glad  to 
see  you,  whatever  you  come  for."  He  was 
shorter  than  Arthur,  but  so  much  more  heav- 
ily built  that  he  looked  the  larger  man  of  the 
two;  and  the  family  resemblance  between 
them  was  so  strong  that  it  seemed  to  empha- 
size their  difference  in  other  respects. 

"  I  came,"  said  Arthur,  "  because  I  had 
a  letter  from  mother,  and  things  seemed 
in  rather  a  bad  way  at  home.  I  thought 
I  would  stop  first  and  have  a  talk  with 
you  about  it,  —  better  here  than  at  your 
house." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS,  37 

"  That 's  so,"  said  John  ;  "  but  I  don't  know 
as  I  Ve  much  to  say." 

"  If  I  had  supposed,  when  I  bought  the 
house  for  mother,  that  the  others  would 
come  down  upon  her  all  at  once,  I  should 
not  have  done  it.  Of  course  I  expect  them 
to  visit  her,  at  her  own  convenience,  but  she 
is  not  strong  enough,  and  she  cannot  afford, 
to  keep  them  all  the  time.  Orlando  and  his 
family  seem  to  be  fixtures." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Land, "  said  John,  with  good- 
humored  contempt  in  his  tone,  —  "  Land  will 
be  a  fixture,  I  warrant  you.  He 's  got  to 
have  some  place  to  roost  in,  hain't  he?  " 

"  He  has  no  right  to  come  down  on  mother 
in  this  way,  when  he  must  know  perfectly 
well  that  her  income  is  not  more  than  suffi- 
cient to  live  comfortably  on  by  herself.  And 
how  can  she  accommodate  them?  I  cannot 
imagine  where  she  can  put  them  all." 

"  That 's  so,"  said  John  again,  leaning  back 
against  his  show-case,  and  folding  his  arms 
over  his  feather-duster ;  "  there  's  six  of  them : 
Land  and  Ider,  three  children,  —  one 's  a 
baby  to  be  sure,  but  it 's  sick,  and  I  guess  it 
takes  up  as  much  room  as  anybody,  —  and 
the  girl;  to  be  sure,  I  guess  she  pays  for 
her  board  in  work." 


38  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

11  And  then  Jonah." 

"  Yes,  Jone !  he  counts  for  one,  at  any 
rate,  don't  he? — a  tight  squeeze." 

"  It  really  ought  not  to  be  tolerated." 

"  Well,"  said  John,  "  I  don't  see  what  you 
are  goin'  to  do  about  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  better  idea  how 
things  stand  before  I  go  there.  What 's  the 
matter  with  Orlando?  Can't  he  get  a 
parish?" 

"  Oh  yes !  Land  can  get  a  parish ;  he  can 
get  a  parish  fast  enough." 

"  Cannot  keep  it  —  is  that  it?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  he  can  keep  it;  they'd  have 
kep'  him  at  Pompey,  if  he  'd  have  stayed." 

"Why  did  he  go?" 

"  Why,  the  truth  of  it  is,  he  could  n't  afford 
to  stay.  Preaching  pays  poorly,  you  know, 
unless  you  can  get  your  name  up,  and  can 
get  a  good  city  parish.  We  give  Dr.  Todd 
three  thousand  a  year.  Now,  Land  preaches 
and  prays  very  fairly,  —  I  '11  say  that  for  him ; 
but  there 's  hundreds  that  do  it  as  well,  and  he 
hain't  got  a  mite  of  push  in  him.  He  has  to 
hang  round  in  these  country  villages,  where 
they  give  five  hundred  a  year,  and  they  don't 
give  that  not  half  the  time,  neither;  no, 
he  could  n't  stay  at  Pompey ;  they  'd  have 
starved,  the  whole  lot  on  "em." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  39 

"  He  ought  not  to  have  left  one  place 
before  he  had  another  in  view,  at  least." 

"Well,  he  had  his  reasons  The  fact  was 
he  was  in  debt,  and  it  was  gettin'  worse  and 
worse,  and  he  thought  he  could  n't  stand  it 
much  longer,  and  that  he'd  better  get  oft" 
while  he  could.  What  was  he  to  do  ?  —  wife 
always  sick,  and  no  end  of  children." 

"  He  has  only  three,  I  believe." 

"Only three  alive;  she's  lost  one  between 
the  little  girl  and  this  last,  —  born  dead  ; 
and  they  ain't  been  married  but  five  years." 

"  He  had  no  right  to  marry  under  such 
circumstances." 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  're  goin'  to  do  about 
it,"  repeated  John,  coolly. 

"  If  he  cannot  support  his  family  by  the 
ministry,  he  ought  to  go  to  work  at  some- 
thing else." 

"  Well,"  said  John,  as  he  flicked  the  dust 
off  a  milk-jug  on  his  top  shelf,  "  I  hardly 
know  what  he's  fit  for.  It 's  a  great  pity  he 
did  n't  go  in  for  being  a  missionary.  They  're 
well  looked  after,  and  the  children  always 
stand  a  good  chance  of  being  adopted  at 
home  ;  but  what 's  the  use  of  thinkin'  of  that 
now?  Ider  could  n't  stand  the  climate,  what- 
ever it  might  be ;  and  then  Land  's  too  old ; 


40  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

they  have  to  begin  young  and  get  up  the 
language,  —  and  the  Board  would  n't  take  a 
man  of  his  age,  with  a  family  already.  I 
suppose  he  thinks  if  he  can  get  a  little  better 
call  from  some  other  society,  perhaps  you  '11 
pay  his  debts,  and  let  him  start  free." 

"  He  had  better  have  told  me  himself  than  let 
me  hear  of  it  in  this  way,"  said  Arthur,  coldly. 

"  I  think  he  was  sort  of  shamed  to  —  and 
then,  perhaps,  he  thought  that  if  he  got  a 
place,  he  might  save  a  little  himself;  but, 
Lord  bless  you  !  he  '11  never  do  anything  at 
that.  Why,  they  hain't  got  clothes  to  wear ! 
It 's  a  question  if  Land's  got  a  coat  that  he 
could  preach  in,  by  this  time.  It 's  a  pity, 
now,  that  he  can't  wear  your  old  clothes  ; 
you  might  let  him  have  some ;  but,  good 
Lord !  your  pants  would  be  a  good  two 
inches  up  above  his  ankles,  I  guess."  John 
waxed  voluble  as  he  spoke  of  the  family 
misfortunes,  with  a  kind  of  cheerful  alacrity, 
not  ill-naturedly,  but  with  some  gratification 
in  the  idea  that  he  was  "  taking  down  Art," 
whose  superior  fortunes  cost  his  brother  some 
heart-burnings.  Arthur  never  assumed  any- 
thing by  word  or  deed ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  silence,  and  the  fit  of  his  clothes, 
that  was  exasperating. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  41 

"  I  must  try  and  make  some  other  arrange- 
ment for  mother;  there  is  Jonah,  —  could 
you  find  him  any  place  here?" 

"  I  've  tried  him  ; "  said  John,  gowing  la- 
conic at  the  least  sign  of  enlargement  of  the 
other's  speech. 

"  You  did  not  find  it  work  well?  " 

"  Jone  ain't  worth  his  salt,  and  I  don't  see 
why  I  should  keep  him  on  to  hurt  the  busi- 
ness because  he 's  a  relation." 

"  Could  not  you  find  some  other  place  for 
him?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  recommend  him  to  any- 
body here.  The  fact  is,  Jone  's  lazy  as  an 
old  hog ;  you  can't  shake  it  out  of  him. 
Now,  Land  will  work  ;  yes,  I  '11  say  that  for 
him,  —  Land  would  work  if  he  only  knew 
how." 

"  One  cannot,  and  the  other  will  not ;  it 
comes  to  much  the  same  thing." 

John  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Seven 
o'clock,"  he  said,  busily  stripping  off  his 
apron,  and  the  cuffs  to  match  that  protected 
his  shirt  sleeves,  and  taking  up  his  coat ; 
"come  to  breakfast,  will  you,  Art?" 

"  Thank  you,  yes  ;  I  must  take  the  half- 
past-eight  train  for  Liverpool." 

"  And  what  you  goin'  to  do  when  you  get 


42  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

there  ?  "  asked  John,  after  they  had  walked  a 
few  steps. 

"  I  cannot  decide  till  I  do  get  there." 
A  few  moments  more  of  silence  passed, 
when  John,  who  somehow  seemed  put  more 
on  the  defensive  by  his  brother's  reticence 
than  by  any  appeal,  direct  or  indirect,  to  his 
feelings,  said  rather  awkwardly,  "  I  'm  willing 
to  do  what  I  can  for  mother.  I  told  her  when 
she  left  here  that  she  could  n't  expect  me  to 
pay  out  money  for  her  if  she  would  n't  live 
with  me ;  but  I  '11  give  her  all  her  coal,  —  I 
can  get  it  with  mine,  —  and  I  '11  see  that  her 
house  is  kept  in  repair,  that  is,  of  course,  any- 
thing in  reason;  not  while  she  lets  those 
youngsters  of  Land's  destroy  and  smash  up 
everything  in  the  way  they  do.  You  see, 
I  've  got  a  family  of  my  own  to  consider ; 
and  times  are  hard." 

As  he  spoke,  he  opened  a  gate,  and  avoid- 
ing the  front  entrance,  led  the  way  round  a 
small  house  covered  with  boards  checked  off 
in  squares,  and  neatly  painted  in  imitation  of 
blocks  of  gray  marble,  to  a  back  door  opening 
from  a  narrow  veranda,  and  they  entered  the 
dining-room,  where  the  breakfast-table  had 
been  set  out  over  night  with  what  might  be 
termed  the  stock  articles,  while  Mrs.  John 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     43 

Butler,  in  the  kitchen,  labored  over  the  novel- 
ties of  the  season. 

"Well,  Mr.  Butler,"  she  exclaimed,  in 
sharply  pitched  tones  as  she  came  forward, 
"  I  hope  you  Ve  been  explainin'  to  your 
brother  that  he  must  n't  expect  anything  to 
speak  of  in  the  line  of  breakfast  this  morn- 
ing. I  don't  calculate  to  be  caught  this  way, 
but  I  have  n't  got  no  girl  just  now,  and  I  ain't 
accustomed  to  doin'  my  own  work.  Of 
course,"  to  Arthur,  "  if  I  'd  known  you  was 
comin'  I  'd  have  had  things  different;  you'll 
have  to  excuse  us." 

She  cast  a  deprecating  look  at  her  stringy 
dark  calico  gown,  which  bore  traces  of  her 
having  "  done  her  own  work  "  for  some  time 
past;  but  the  fact  that  the  hair  over  her 
forehead  was  tightly  twisted  in  about  a  dozen 
locks  round  as  many  hairpins,  did  not  occur 
to  her  as  anything  to  mind,  for  this  was  the 
morning  uniform  of  the  ladies  of  her  circle  ; 
how  else  could  they  appear  with  the  tightly 
frizzled  "  fringe,"  the  maintenance  of  which 
was  inexorably  demanded  as  one  of  their 
duties  to  society?  A  decided  mark  of  her 
superior  position  was  visible  in  a  pair  of  dia- 
mond earrings,  worn  all  the  time,  "  because 
it  was  the  safest  way." 


44  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TV/TRS.  JOHN  BUTLER  was  a  largely 
•*•*•*-  built,  loose-jointed  woman.  Her  head 
was  long,  especially  from  the  nose  downward, 
and  the  effect  was  heightened  by  all  the  hair 
not  at  present  in  a  preparatory  state  being 
tightly  strained  upward  and  backward  into  a 
knot  at  the  top.  She  had  very  black  hair 
and  eyes,  and  a  florid  complexion,  and  had 
an  air  of  being,  at  least  in  her  own  opinion, 
the  superior  partner  in  the  household,  per- 
haps because  she  had  been  Miss  Almira 
Cubitt,  and  brought  as  her  dowry,  half  in 
the  present,  and  half  in  the  future,  the  good- 
will and  stock  in  trade  of  the  China  Parlors. 
She  had  brought  nothing  else, —  old  Cubitt 
having  been  content  to  jog  on  all  his  life  just 
holding  his  business  together,  till  John  Butler, 
with  fresher  notions  and  more  energy,  had 
used  the  standpoint  of  the  place  and  name 
so  as  to  double  the  profits  in  a  year  or  two. 
John,  as  well  as  Arthur,  had  inherited 
ambition  from  their  father,  —  an  aspiring 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     45 

young  carpenter,  who  died  after  a  long  ill- 
ness before  he  had  achieved  his  great  aim  of 
becoming  a  master-builder;  and  if  the  elder 
brother's  hopes  were  more  humble,  they  ran 
more  chance  of  being  satisfied.  He  now 
vibrated  between  a  wish  to  show  off  his 
prosperous  condition,  and  a  fear  that  if  he 
indulged  it  too  openly  Arthur  would  think 
he  ought  to  do  more  for  his  mother. 

"  Come,  Arthur,"  he  said,  "  won't  you  sit 
down?  We  seem  to  have  got  rather  a  picked- 
up  breakfast,  but  we  won't  make  a  stranger 
of  you." 

"  Of  course,"  repeated  Mrs.  John,  with  a 
toss  of  her  hairpins,  "  If  I  'd  known  you  were 
comin'  I  'd  have  had  things  a  little  different. 
I  Ve  been  lookin'  for  a  girl,  but  it 's  dreadful 
hard  to  get  them  here.  Now,  Laurea,  stop 
teasin'  a  bit,"  —  to  her  five-year-old  daughter, 
who  was  muttering  something  in  a  whining 
undertone,  as  she  hung  on  the  back  of  her 
mother's  chair;  "  't  ain't  likely  your  uncle's 
got  any  candy  in  his  pocket  for  you." 

"  I  am  sorry  if  your  little  girl  is  disap- 
pointed," said  Arthur,  too  overwhelmingly 
polite  for  the  occasion.  He  was  not  much  used 
to  children,  and  the  present  specimen  was  not 
prepossessing,  —  being  a  stout,  heavy  child, 


46  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

with  a  large  head  and  bad  teeth,  and  dark 
straight  hair  twisted  round  bits  of  rags,  with 
a  view,  like  her  mother,  to  future  adornment. 
"  I  thought  children  were  not  allowed  to  eat 
candy  now." 

"  My  stars  !  I  guess  they  '11  eat  it,  whether 
they're  allowed  or  not.  Go  to  your  seat, 
Laurea,  there  's  a  dear;  "  and  then  in  a  loud 
whisper,  "  momma  '11  get  you  some  when  we 
go  down  street  this  mornin'  if  you  '11  be  a 
good  girl,  and  eat  your  breakfast." 

Laurea  —  this  young  lady's  name  had  been 
invented,  or  rather  adapted,  by  her  mother; 
"  I  want  her  to  have  a  new  name  that  no  one 
else  has,"  Mrs.  John  had  said ;  "  and  it 's  very 
easy  to  make  one,  by  just  putting  an  e  on  to 
Laura" — Laurea  subsided,  and  her  father 
uttering  a  short  and  evidently  stereotyped 
grace,  the  meal  began.  John  Butler  was  not 
a  church  member,  for  he  was  not  without  a 
conscience,  and  had  an  idea  that  the  scruples 
proper  to  the  character  might  some  time  or 
other  stand  in  the  way  of  business ;  his  wife 
was  one,  and  that  kept  him  au  conrant  with 
religious  affairs,  with  facilities  for  strengthen- 
ing the  connection  in  case  of  illness  or  finan- 
cial depression. 

How  John  had  contrived,  in  the  few  min- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  47 

utes  before  breakfast,  which  he  spent  in  the 
kitchen  drawing  the  cold  water,  while  his  wife 
dished  up  her  sausages  and  liver,  to  acquaint 
her  with  the  reasons  for  his  brother's  visit,  and 
to  apprise  her  of  more  of  the  latter's  plans 
than  he  had  himself  disclosed,  was  astonishing 
to  Arthur,  who  could  only  suppose  that  there 
must  be  a  kind  of  free-masonry  or  conversa- 
tional short-hand  between  married  people. 
Evidently  she  was,  or  thought  herself  to  be, 
thoroughly  informed,  and  in  the  first  lull  of 
talk,  after  the  weather  and  spring  crops  and 
spring  markets  had  received  attention,  she 
struck  in  with,  "  If  you  Ve  any  wish  to  board 
out  the  old  lady,  Mr.  Butler,  I  wish  you  'd  let 
us  have  her." 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  yet," 
said  Arthur;  "  and  at  any  rate  I  should  want 
my  mother  to  decide  for  herself." 

"  Oh,  yes !  only  it  seems  a  shame  to  be 
payin'  money  out  of  the  family,  when  it 
might  as  well  stay  in." 

"  I  guess,"  said  John,  coloring  a  little, 
"  that  if  mother  wanted  to  come  here  we 
could  fix  it  for  her  without  chargin"  board." 

"  I  believe  she  prefers  her  own  house,"  said 
Arthur. 

"  Well,  if  she  paid,  things  would  be  dif- 


48  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

ferent  here,"  said  Mrs.  John.  "  I  'd  give  her 
the  spare  room,  and  let  her  have  a  stove  in 
it.  I  did  n't  quite  feel  as  if  I  could  do  that 
before." 

Arthur  was  silent,  as  he  turned  over  his 
untasted  food  with  his  fork.  He  was  vividly 
recalling  a  conversation  he  had  half  uncon- 
sciously overheard  one  day,  when  reading  in 
Miss  Curtis's  library,  between  herself  and  her 
young  cousin.  "  She  is  a  strong,  healthy- 
looking  woman,"  Sophy  had  said,  "  and  her 
references  are  excellent." 

"  Her  appearance  and  manner  are  against 
her,"  said  Miss  Curtis ;  "  I  could  not  have  a 
servant  who  wore  her  hair  in  that  alarming 
way,  — and  then,  her  voice  !  " 

"  But,  Cousin  Rachel,  for  the  laundress 
that  would  n't  matter  so  much,  would  it,  if 
she  were  a  good  worker?  —  you  know  you 
need  scarcely  see  or  hear  her." 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  said  Miss  Curtis,  deci- 
sively. "  I  should  hear  that  voice  through 
any  number  of  doors;  and  I  could  not  be 
happy  with  such  a  person  anywhere  in  my 
house." 

Arthur  seemed  to  hear  Miss  Curtis  discuss- 
ing his  sister-in-law.  He  had  never  seen  the 
objectionable  laundress ;  but  a  vivid  recollec- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     49 

tion  came  up,  in  contrast  to  Mrs.  John 
Butler,  of  the  quiet,  lady-like,  low-voiced  and 
light-footed  "  perfect  treasure  "  who  acted  as 
Miss  Curtis's  own  maid.  He  was  recalled  to 
his  sense  of  the  present  by  his  hostess. 

"  As  long  as  you  're  going  down  to  Liver- 
pool, Mr.  Arthur,  would  you  mind  takin'  a 
bundle  for  me  —  I  mean  for  them?" 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy." 

"  It 's  some  clothes  of  Laurea's  I  thought 
they  might  fix  over  for  the  little  girl ;  and  I 
guess  I  '11  send  the  one  she 's  got  on,  too," 
looking  at  her  daughter's  frock,  a  plaid  of 
large  design  and  aggressive  colors  ;  "  she 's 
about  got  through  with  it,  and  I  have  n't  any 
to  make  it  over  with." 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  "  let  'em  have  it,  let  'em 
have  it.  I  '11  buy  Laurea  a  new  one,  —  or 
two,  for  that  matter." 

"  Ider  and  her  sister  will  turn  up  their 
noses  at  it;  they '11  say  it 's  too  high  colored 
or  somethin'  else.  They  ain't  very  grateful, 
and  they've  got  such  queer  notions.  You 
see  they  were  raised  by  an  aunt  of  theirs, 
and  she  was  an  old  maid." 

"You  knew  Mrs.  Orlando  Butler  before 
her  marriage?" 

"  Law,  yes  !  I  should  think  I  did  know  Ider 
4 


50  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Shepherd !  They  come  from  New  Hamp- 
shire to  Cazenovia  after  their  father  died. 
I  used  to  visit  Uncle  Ezra  Whitten  there,  and 
I  went  to  the  Female  Academy  to  take  music 
lessons.  Old  Miss  Shepherd  come  there  to 
teach,  and  brought  the  girls  with  her.  She 
was  a  queer  old  thing,  if  ever  there  was  one. 
She  brought  them  girls  up  to  think  it  was 
sinful  to  look  at  a  man.  I  don't  know  how 
Ider  ever  got  married  ;  though  she  was  rather 
pretty,  too,  if  she  ever  had  any  style.  She 's 
not  so  much  like  her  aunt  as  Florer  is." 

Arthur  excused  himself  for  hurrying  away 
by  pleading  the  necessity  of  catching  his 
train,  and  was  permitted  to  depart,  carrying 
with  him  a  large  parcel,  particularly  ill  done 
up  in  newspaper,  while  John  warmly  urged 
him  to  come  again  whenever  he  could,  and 
Mrs.  John  vainly  tried  to  make  Laurea  send 
her  love  to  her  little  cousins.  "  The  fact  is," 
said  her  mother,  "  them  children  are  such 
yonng  scamps  that  Laurea  don't  take  no 
comfort  in  'em." 

Arthur  walked  off,  unpleasantly  conscious 
of  the  conspicuous  appearance  he  made  in 
carrying  a  large  bundle  of  the  young  lady's 
out-grown  clothes  ;  but  when  he  entered  the 
stuffy  car  in  the  "  way  train,"  which  passed 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  51 

twice  a  day  through  Liverpool,  he  found  that 
parcels  of  all  kinds  were  the  rule  among  the 
passengers,  and  that  his  own  would  pass 
unnoticed.  He  sat  by  the  window,  looking 
out  at  the  well-remembered  scenes  along  the 
road,  but  little  changed  since  he  had  gone 
over  it  when  a  boy,  though  then  a  ride  on 
the  train  had  been  a  rare  treat,  and  more 
often  he  had  trudged  the  five  miles  and  back. 
How  long  the  way  had  been  then,  and  how 
short  it  seemed  now ! 

There  was  the  budding  veil  of  creepers, 
hiding  with  their  tender  green  the  banks  of 
every  railway  cutting;  for  Onondaga  soil  is 
rich,  and  Nature  takes  upon  herself  the  unpaid 
task,  but  for  her  left  undone,  of  beautifying  the 
surroundings  of  the  New  York  Central  Rail- 
road and  its  branches.  There  was  Onondaga 
Lake",  shallow  and  with  flat  shores,  yet  giving 
the  air  of  freshness  and  freedom  that  only 
water  can  give  to  a  landscape.  Liverpool, 
on  the  bank,  was  not  without  its  natural  ad- 
vantages, but  it  had  an  air,  like  a  pretty 
woman  with  slovenly  habits,  of  not  making 
the  best  of  itself.  It  was  built  round  a  great 
open  green,  where  the  now  budding  elms 
threw  their  branches  so  high  into  the  air  as 
to  let  the  light  in  beneath  to  color  the  spring- 


52     BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

ing  grass;  but  the  place  was  unkempt  and 
untrimmed,  and  spring,  here,  was  a  less  be- 
coming period  of  the  year  than  it  ought  to 
have  been,  as  the  inhabitants,  who  acted  with 
deliberation,  had  not  yet  taken  time  to  re- 
move the  piles  of  ashes  and  rubbish  which 
had  accumulated  in  their  yards  during  win- 
ter. The  view  of  the  lake  was  cut  off  by 
the  long  rows  of  salt-sheds  which  lined  the 
shore.  They  were  empty  now,  the  business 
having  forsaken  Liverpool  for  more  produc- 
tive fields,  and  they  were  not  objects  to  look 
picturesque  in  decay. 

Arthur  stopped  at  the  inn,  or  rather  board- 
ing-house, wrote  some  business  letters,  and 
leaving  his  luggage  there  walked  across  the 
green,  all  very  quiet  and  still  in  the  soft  sweet 
air,  to  a  little  frame-house,  the  home  of  his 
mother's  early  married  life,  built,  and*  well- 
built,  though  in  the  worst  style  of  a  period  of 
ugly  houses,  by  her  husband's  own  hands. 
When  he  found  she  could  not  be  happy  at 
his  brother's  he  had  paid  off  the  mortgage 
on  it,  and  had  it  thoroughly  put  in  order  for 
her ;  but  it  now  seemed  to  have  relapsed  into 
the  state  in  which  he  remembered  it  in  his 
boyhood,  when  they  had  not  a  penny  to 
spare  for  repairs.  The  fence  was  broken 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  53 

here  and  there,  and  looked  like  the  one  he 
used  so  painfully  to  try  to  patch  up  to  keep 
the  neighbors'  hens  from  scratching  in  the 
small  plot  of  ground  where  he  strove  to  raise 
a  few  vegetables.  The  shrubs  which  he  had 
so  recently  ordered  for  the  little  garden  were 
some  uprooted  and  dying,  some  crushed  and 
broken ;  flower-borders  and  grass-plats  alike 
were  trodden  hard  and  bare ;  and  a  cinder- 
heap  in  the  back-ground  was  full  in  view. 

"  Disgusting !  "  he  thought  to  himself,  as 
he  strode  up  the  path;  it  was  not  uttered 
aloud,  for  he  seldom  allowed  himself  to  show 
outward  signs  of  disturbance  ;  but  a  sharp 
and  sudden  knock  against  his  ankle  drew  one 
of  an  emphatic  nature  from  him.  It  came, 
as  he  now  saw,  from  a  stone  thrown  by  a 
child  about  four  years  old,  while  a  younger 
one  launched  a  broken  door-handle  with  equal 
ill-will,  but  less  dexterity.  These  young  per- 
sons were  indistinguishable  as  to  sex,  both 
being  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  long  brown 
pinafores,  over  which  hung  long  fair  curling 
hair,  which  streamed  in  the  wind  as  they  now 
fled  wildly  round  the  corner  of  the  house, 
from  their  favorite  playing-place,  the  cinder- 
heap,  only  pausing  to  throw  back  grimaces 
over  their  shoulders  as  they  disappeared.  If 


54  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

these  were  the  cousins  to  whose  manners 
Miss  Laurea  objected,  it  must  be  owned  that 
she  had  some  excuse ;  but  the  little  savages 
were  so  very  pretty  that  even  in  spite  of  the 
unpleasant  tingling  sensation  in  his  ankle, 
Arthur  felt  inclined  to  take  their  part  against 
her. 

He  advanced  and  turned  a  handle  in  the 
middle  of  the  door,  which  struck  a  bell  on 
the  inside,  apparently  more  adapted  to  be 
heard  by  the  visitor's  own  ears  than  by  those 
of  any  inhabitant.  For  some  moments  no 
one  came,  and  he  had  time  to  contemplate 
the  battered  door  and  broken  doorscraper, 
with  a  fresh  emotion  of  anger,  which  vented 
itself  in  a  more  violent  turn  of  the  crank.  His 
perturbation  made  his  usually  attentive  ear 
miss  the  sound  of  a  light  step  within,  and  as 
the  door  swung  open,  he  started  back  with 
feelings  akin  to  those  which  might  have  been 
experienced  by  that  familiar  heroine  of  the 
nursery,  Mrs.  Bond,  if  when  seeking  in  her 
pond  for  the  familiar  domestic  fowl  of  the 
ditty,  a  splendid  white  swan  had  swelled  its 
plumage  full  in  her  face.  The  most  beautiful 
girl  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life  was  looking 
at  him,  her  eyes  almost  on  a  level  with  his. 
There  was  something,  too,  in  the  backward 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  55 

set  of  her  lovely  shoulders,  and  her  cool 
dazzling  fairness  that  could  have  maintained 
the  comparison. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ! "  he  involuntarily 
exclaimed ;  "  I  thought  no  one  had  heard  me 
ring." 

"  I  could  not  come  at  first,"  said  the  girl, 
with  no  apologetic  accent,  but  as  if  stating 
a  fact. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Butler  at  home?  " 

"She  is,"  said  the  beauty,  moving  slightly 
aside  to  let  him  pass  into  the  little  front 
sitting-room. 

"Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  let  her  know 
that  Mr.  Arthur  Butler  wishes  to  see  her? 
I  believe,"  he  went  on,  "I  have  the  pleasure 
of  speaking  to  Miss — "  He  had  actually 
forgotten  in  his  confusion  the  maiden  name 
of  his  brother  Orlando's  wife,  whose  sister, 
he  supposed,  must  now  be  standing  before 
him. 

"I  am  Flora,"  said  the  girl,  coldly,  and 
without  a  smile;  but  her  words  resolved  the 
puzzling  effort  to  find  a  resemblance  in  her 
face,  which  he  now  recognized  as  being  to 
his  favorite  statue,  her  namesake  at  the 
Capitol,  though  he  knew  only  by  photographs 
that  image  of  divine  girlhood,  so  sweetly  and 


56  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

fitly  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  roses.  This 
poor  little  goddess  had  lost  her  wreath  in  the 
rough  ways  of  life,  but  the  few  curving  lines 
which  defined  the  soft  contours  of  her  youth- 
ful face  were  the  same;  the  same,  those 
exquisite  beauties  he  had  most  especially 
admired :  the  firm  but  fine-drawn  outlines  of 
the  mouth;  the  chin  so  lightly  set  upon, 
yet  so  gently  melting  into  the  round  slender 
throat;  and  the  soft  texture  of  the  skin  on 
the  temples  at  the  roots  of  the  backward 
rippling  hair,  as  if  faintly  powdered  with 
gold-dust,  which  showed  even  in  the  pictured 
marble.  She  was  paler  than  one  would  have 
imagined  her  prototype,  but  no  sculptured 
goddess  ever  made  one  imagine  such  eyes,  — 
long  in  shape,  with  a  thick,  dark  fringe,  and 
a  languishing  curve  and  droop,  that  might 
have  suggested  coquetry,  but  that  there  was 
no  sparkle  in  their  blue  depths,  nothing  but 
pure  color  full  of  latent  light,  like  the  sky. 
She  wore  a  very  limp,  faded,  chocolate- 
brown  calico  gown,  one  of  Mrs.  John  Butler's 
cast-off  dresses,  but  it  seemed  designed  for 
as  perfect  a  foil  to  her  fairness  as  the  with- 
ered spathe  that  clings  to  the  open  blossom 
of  a  white  narcissus. 

Arthur  took  all  this  in  half  consciously, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  57 

while  she  opened  the  parlor  window  and  the 
closed  blinds,  and  then  saying,  "I  will  tell 
Mrs.  Butler  you  are  here,"  floated  off,  leav- 
ing him  to  inhale  a  fragrance  compounded 
of  the  scent  of  old  boots,  muddy  carpets, 
carbolic  acid,  and  last  week's  dinners,  care- 
fully preserved  like  pot-pourri,  by  keeping 
it  shut  up.  In  a  few  moments  Mrs.  Butler, 
a  small,  delicate,  still  pretty  woman,  who 
looked  a  lady  in  her  severely  plain,  cheap 
black  gown,  worn  as  much  from  principle  as 
economy,  hurried  in  and  greeted  her  son 
affectionately,  though  in  a  pre-occupied  way. 

"  You  must  excuse  a  very  poor  dinner, 
Arthur,  my  dear,"  she  began,  with  a  nervous 
and  deprecating  air,  as  of  one  who  expects 
to  be  found  fault  with ;  "  we  did  not  expect 
you  till  the  afternoon  train." 

"That  is  of  no  consequence." 

"  I  have  been  trying  to  think  where  you 
are  to  sleep,  but  we  are  so  full  —  perhaps  we 
can  arrange  a  bed  in  this  room." 

"  You  must  not  trouble  yourself.  I  have 
engaged  a  room  at  Kemp's,  and  I  can  take 
my  meals  there  too,  if  it  will  save  you 
trouble." 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  we  want  to  have  you 
eat  here  —  if  you  don't  mind;  you  won't 


58  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

expect  much  when  there  's  sickness  in  the 
house."  Mrs.  Butler,  as  she  spoke,  fidgeted 
restlessly  about,  and  changed  her  seat  once 
or  twice.  Her  son  felt  that  it  was  cruel  that 
he  should  be  such  an  object  of  alarm,  and 
though  he  had  included  her  in  some  of  the 
indignation  he  had  expressed,  he  realized,  as 
he  always  did  when  he  was  with  her,  that 
she  was  scarcely  to  blame.  "She's  not  fit 
to  take  care  of  herself,"  he  thought. 

"Dinner  is  ready,"  said  Flora,  appearing 
again,  and  each  time  a  fresh  surprise,  at  the 
door,  but  vanishing  so  quickly  that  by  the 
time  they  reached  the  next  room  she  had 
left  it.  The  small  apartment  was  already 
well  filled  by  Arthur's  younger  brothers ;  for 
though  the  inheritance  of  the  father's  energy 
had  apparently  been  exhausted  by  his  two 
eldest  sons,  the  younger  approached  him 
more  nearly  in  size.  The  Rev.  Orlando 
Butler,  like  his  maternal  grandfather  a 
clergyman  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  was 
a  tall  thin  loose-built  man,  with  sloping 
shoulders;  and  his  long  close-shaven  face, 
and  near-sighted  eyes,  above  which  the  hair 
was  already  growing  thin  on  the  top  of  his 
head,  had  a  gentle,  deprecating  expression, 
just  now  more  marked  than  usual.  He  wore 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     59 

a  faded  old  wrapper,  and  old  slippers  down 
at  the  heel,  but  there  was  a  certain  look  of 
refinement  in  spite  of  it  all,  which  gave  his 
outward  presence  something  akin  to  his 
brother  Arthur's  fastidious  elegance.  His 
attention  was  vehemently  claimed  by  his 
children,  one  of  whom  had  hold  of  each 
hand,  and  who  made  such  pertinacious  resis- 
tance to  letting  go,  that  he  was  obliged  to 
give  up  the  attempt  to  shake  hands  with 
their  uncle.  They  were  now  very  neatly 
dressed  in  frocks  of  butcher-blue  linen,  with 
the  proper  distinction  in  masculine  and  femi- 
nine cut  and  make,  and  their  rich  golden 
hair,  combed  out  into  a  glittering  wavy 
mane,  made  them  look  elaborately  attired. 

Jonah  Butler,  who  rose  with  a  yawn 
from  an  old  sofa  where  he  had  been  loung- 
ing, was  as  tall  as  Orlando,  and  twice  as 
broad,  — a  great  hulking  vegetable-looking 
lout,  who  needed  pruning.  As  they  sat 
down  Flora  came  in  for  a  moment,  flushed 
and  hurried,  with  her  dress  unchanged,  and 
carrying  a  large  tray,  which,  still  holding, 
she  deftly  loaded  with  a  selection  from  the 
dishes  on  the  table.  Still  balancing  the 
heavy  weight  on  her  left  hand,  she  tried  to 
open  the  door  with  the  other,  when  Arthur 


60     BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

sprang  up,  and  taking  it  from  her  before  she 
could  refuse,  opened  it  himself. 

"Thank  you,"  she  murmured,  in  the  low- 
est tone,  and  for  the  first  time  with  some 
recognition  in  her  eyes. 

"Where  can  I  take  it  for  you,  Miss 
Shepherd?" 

"Thank  you,  I  must  take  it  myself;  it  is 
Ida's  dinner,"  she  said  rather  earnestly,  as 
if  she  expected  him  to  insist  on  retaining  it; 
but  he  gave  it  up  at  once  as  soon  as  he  saw 
that  she  really  wished  it,  and  she  disappeared 
immediately. 

"Is  Flora  coming  to  dinner?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Butler. 

"No,"  said  Orlando;  "the  baby  is  awake, 
and  she  will  have  to  hold  him  while  Ida  has 
hers." 

"  It  is  a  pity  the  baby  will  always  wake  at 
meal  times,"  said  Mrs.  Butler;  "it  takes 
away  Ida's  appetite  to  hear  it  cry." 

Indeed,  through  the  open  door  a  wail  was 
now  heard,  repeated  at  regular  intervals, 
like  the  mewing  of  a  sickly  kitten,  though 
each  individual  cry  was  so  feeble  that  it 
seemed  as  if  it  must  be  the  last.  It  was  not 
so  much  like  a  complaint  occasioned  by  any 
particular  discomfort,  as  a  protest  against  the 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  6 1 

misery  of  living  altogether;  but  after  a 
while  it  suddenly  ceased,  and  the  equally 
faint  but  more  steady  sound  of  a  half-mur- 
mured lullaby  came  with  more  or  less 
distinctness,  as  if  the  singer  were  moving 
about. 

"  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  walk  with  babies 
to  stop  their  crying,"  said  Mrs.  Butler;  "I 
never  did  with  any  of  you." 

"Ida  must  have  her  dinner  in  peace," 
said  Orlando,  with  a  sigh;  "she  eats  little 
enough."  He  did  not  himself  make  much 
show  of  appetite,  but  spent  most  of  his  time 
cutting  up  his  children's  meat,  coaxing  them 
to  eat  a  little,  and  allowing  them  to  waste 
a  great  deal,  for  they  had  capricious  appe- 
tites to  match  their  dainty  looks.  Jonah, 
on  the  contrary,  devoured  in  silence  about  a 
pound  of  corned-beef,  with  accompaniments 
in  like  measure.  Neither  spectacle  was  con- 
ducive to  Arthur's  enjoyment  of  the  occa- 
sion, and  indeed  the  dinner,  though  cooked 
by  the  fair  hands  of  the  beautiful  Flora, 
was,  it  must  be  confessed,  a  very  uninviting 
repast.  As  soon  as  it  was  over,  without 
much  having  been  said  by  any  one,  Orlando 
took  the  children  upstairs,  where  their  aunt 
took  off  their  blue  frocks,  the  only  respect- 


62  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

able  garments  they  possessed,  and  in  which  it 
was  her  intention  to  produce  them  again  at 
tea,  and  put  on  the  discarded  calico  aprons. 

"Who's  that  man?"  asked  Orlando  the 
second. 

"  Your  uncle  Arthur,  my  dear. " 

"I  don't  like  him,  then,"  said  the  boy, 
pouting  like  a  sulky  Cupid. 

"I  did  frow  stones  at  man,"  lisped  the 
girl,  smiling  like  a  cherub  in  bliss. 

"And  I  hit  him,"  added  her  brother,  with 
more  distinct  speech. 

"  Oh,  children,  children !  you  will  break 
my  heart !  "  cried  the  aunt,  in  despair.  The 
.truth  was  that  all  her  calculations  had  been 
wofully  upset.  Mrs.  Butler  had  been  sure 
that  dear  Arthur  would  want  to  spend  the 
day  with  dear  John,  and  would  not  arrive  in 
Liverpool  till  evening,  by  which  time  Flora 
had  hoped  to  make  the  children  presentable. 
She  had  carefully  cut  their  silken  hair 
straight  across  their  brows,  where  it  lay  in 
such  light  wavy  fringes,  and  cast  such  pearly 
shadows  on  their  translucent  skins,  that  it 
seemed  an  insult  when  Mrs.  Almira  took  up 
the  style  and  "banged,"  as  she  called  it, 
Laurea's  thick  dark  coarse  straight  locks 
like  a  dead  wall  just  over  her  eyebrows. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     63 

Then  Flora  had  done  up  their  blue  frocks  as 
nicely  as  she  could,  feeling  that  if  Ida  her- 
self could  not  appear,  the  sight  of  her 
children  might  be  enough  to  melt  the  hard 
heart  of  the  uncle,  whom  the  family  idea 
depicted  as  rolling  in  money,  and  able  to  do 
a  great  deal  more  for  them  than  he  did,  if 
he  only  wanted  to.  Hot  tears  rose  to  her 
eyes,  as  she  led  the  little  reprobates  down- 
stairs, and  lured  them  with  some  hoarded 
bits  of  broken  crockery  to  confine  their 
afternoon  sports  to  the  rubbish-heap  by  the 
back  door;  while  she  went  in  to  clear  off 
the  table,  relieved  to  find  that  the  dining- 
room  was  deserted,  and  that  she  could  pick, 
her  own  cold  dinner  from  among  the  scraps 
left,  without  being  stared  at  by  Jonah  from 
the  lounge.  Arthur,  as  soon  as  dinner  was 
over,  had  said  to  his  younger  brother:  — 

"Will  you  go  to  Kemp's  and  ask  for  a 
couple  of  parcels  I  left  there  ?  Some  things 
Almira  sent,  and  a  little  present  I  brought 
for  you,"  he  added  in  explanation  to  his 
mother. 

"  O — h — h —  too  heavy  for  you,  hey  ?  " 
drawled  Jonah,  with  an  effort  at  sarcasm. 

"  You  seem  to  have  nothing  to  do,  so  you 
may  as  well  go." 


64  BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS. 

"  Too  grand  to  carry  a  bundle  yourself,  be 
yer?"  inquired  Jonah,  with  as  much  of  a 
sneer  as  his  heavy  features  could  give ;  but 
he  rose  all  the  same.  He  never  disobeyed 
Arthur  to  his  face. 

Mrs.  Butler  knew  that  her  son  wanted  to 
improve  the  opportunity  for  a  tete-a-tete  with 
her,  which  she  dreaded,  and  thought  it  well 
to  put  off  by  murmuring  something  about 
"helping  Flora  clear  off  ;  "  so  she  lingered  in 
the  dining-room,  scraping  the  leavings  from 
one  plate  into  another,  as  if  with  some 
vague  idea  that  they  would  disappear  in  the 
process,  and  putting  away  all  the  clean 
dishes  into  the  wrong  places.  When  Flora 
had  at  last  set  everything  to  rights  in  a  way 
which  left  nothing  for  her  to  do,  she  finally 
changed  her  apron  with  trembling  hands, 
and  went  into  the  parlor,  hoping  that 
Orlando  would  come  down  to  speak  for 
himself;  but  he  did  not. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     65 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  T  AM  very  sorry  to  find  things  in  such  a 
-•-  condition  here,"  began  Arthur  with 
his  usual  polish  of  manner,  as  if  he  were 
addressing  a  stranger,  but  which  was  more 
alarming  to  his  mother  than  if  he  had  flown 
out  at  her  in  a  rage;  "the  boys  ought  to 
have  known  better  than  to  come  down  upon 
you  in  this  way." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  murmured  Mrs.  Butler. 

"May  I  ask  what  Orlando's  plans  are  — 
if  he  has  any? " 

"  I  hope  Orlando  will  soon  get  some  good 
parish." 

"  Has  he  any  in  view  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  he  has ;    but  you  know  a 
minister  has  to  wait  for  a  call." 

"  He  has  been  waiting  six  months,  it 
seems,  and  living  on  you  in  the  mean  time. 
I  don't  suppose  that  what  I  have  sent  you 
has  been  enough  to  support  such  a  family, 
and  I  want  to  know  if  you  owe  anything 
here,  and  how  much." 
5 


66  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"I  am  afraid  we  do  —  but  I  can't  exactly 
say;  I  hope  it  is  not  very  much." 

"Who  does  know?" 

"I  suppose  the  storekeeper  will  have  it 
on  his  books,  will  he  not?  He  will  show 
them  to  you,  if  you  ask." 

"And  can  you  tell  me  if  his  books  are 
correct  ? " 

"Oh,  they  must  be!  Mr.  Taylor  is  a 
professing  Christian  !  Perhaps,  Arthur,  you 
might  pay  him  a  little  while  you  are  here, 
and  I  think  he  would  wait  for  the  rest." 

"Till  when?" 

"I  don't  know  —  till  Orlando  gets  a  par- 
ish, I  suppose." 

"It  seems  he  could  not  pay  his  own  bills 
when  he  had  a  parish. " 

"  He  has  had  a  great  deal  of  sickness  in  his 
family,  you  know;  but  Orlando  has  a  great 
feeling  against  being  in  debt;  he  gave  up  his 
parish  at  Pompey  because  he  thought  it  was 
not  a  good  example  for  a  minister  to  set." 

"  Does  he  think  that  it  is  a  good  example 
for  a  minister  to  set  to  come  and  make  his 
mother  run  in  debt  by  living  upon  her? " 

"  It  would  be  hard  if  he  could  not  expect 
his  mother  to  help  him;"  said  Mrs.  Butler, 
in  a  trembling  voice. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  6/ 

"If  you  could, — but  you  have  not  the 
means;  and  he  knew  that  perfectly  well 
when  he  came  here." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  tearfully, 
"that  he  thought  —  " 

"  That  I  should  pay  them  for  him  ?  Very 
likely." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  feel  it  a  credit 
to  have  a  minister  in  the  family,  and  want 
to  do  a  little  something  for  him." 

"  I  cannot  consider  such  conduct  a  credit 
to  any  one,  minister  or  no  minister.  The 
fact  is,  that  I  have  always  done  all  I  could 
for  you,  and  more  than  all  the  others  put 
together;  and  though  I  have  had  to  econo- 
mize closely,  I  never  ran  into  debt.  I  have 
done  something  for  the  boys,  too.  I  gave 
John  and  Orlando  presents  when  they  were 
married,  the  best  I  could  afford,  and  I  kept 
Jonah  at  school,  till  I  found  he  was  learn- 
ing nothing.  I  say  these  things,  not  to  boast, 
but  to  show  that  they  have  no  right  to  expect 
more  of  me." 

"  I  hope  Jonah  will  soon  find  something  to 

do;  and  we  really  have  needed  him  at  home 

this  winter;  he  goes  all  our  errands  to  the 

store." 

"  I  cannot  afford  to  pay  him  for  doing  that. " 


68  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"I  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  now  melting 
into  tears,  "that  some  one  would  give  us 
some  money.  Perhaps  the  Ladies'  Home 
Missionary  Society  —  they  gave  Orlando  his 
education,  you  know  —  would  help  us  a 
little." 

Arthur  Butler  was  sorry  for  his  mother, 
and  felt  as  uncomfortable  as  a  man  usually 
does  at  the  sight  of  a  woman's  tears;  but  he 
had  no  deeper  feeling,  never  having  had  any 
sympathy  with  either  of  his  parents,  or  any 
special  affection  for  them,  except  that  lan- 
guid one  of  habit.  He  had  just  enough  of 
his  mother's  personal  refinement  to  make 
him,  as  a  child,  repelled  by  his  father's 
coarse,  overbearing  ways;  and  enough  of 
his  father's  energy  to  be  provoked  at  his 
mother's  fatuity;  while  having  twice  the 
brains  of  either  of  them,  his  sense  of  these 
qualities  was  less  likely  to  be  deadened  by 
custom.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Butler  herself  could 
hardly  have  been  said  to  love  the  husband, 
whom  she  had  married  because  he  asked,  or 
rather  told  her  to  do  so;  and  had  he  lived 
longer,  perhaps  his  love  would  have  died  out 
as  the  pretty  face  faded  by  which  it  had 
been  won. 

It  was   useless,    Arthur  felt,   to  say  any 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     69 

more  to  her  now  on  this  theme;  he  realized 
for  the  hundredth  time  the  impossibility  of 
making  her  understand;  and  after  standing 
a  few  moments  looking  blankly  out  of  the 
window,  he  asked  abruptly:  "Where  did  — 
Orlando's  wife  come  from?  " 

"It  is  a  very  romantic  story,"  said  Mrs. 
Butler,  glad  to  change  the  subject,  and 
always  mildly  interested  in  anything  "like 
a  story,"  as  she  called  it;  and  she  proceeded 
in  the  style  of  the  tales  in  the  "  Lady's 
Book "  which  she  had  read  in  her  giddy 
youth,  before  her  conversion,  since  which 
period  she  had  touched  no  work  of  fiction. 
"  Ida  and  Flora  were  two  lovely  orphans, 
born  and  brought  up  in  a  beautiful  but 
secluded  valley  in  New  Hampshire,  where 
their  father,  a  poor  but  pious  clergyman  —  " 
"I  thought  you  said  they  were  orphans." 
"Oh,  that  was  not  till  afterwards.  Their 
father  died  more  than  five  years  ago,  when 
Ida  was  seventeen,  and  Flora  fourteen. 
Their  mother  had  long  been  dead,  and  their 
aunt,  a  maiden  lady,  but  a  very  remarkable 
woman,  had  kept  house  for  their  father,  and 
brought  them  up.  She  had  taught  in  a  very 
fine  school  in  Boston,  and  when  Mr.  Shep- 
herd died,  she  got  a  situation  as  assistant 


7O     BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

principal  in  the  Female  Seminary  in  Caze- 
novia,  where  Orlando  had  just  been  settled. 
Orlando  thought  a  great  deal  of  Miss  Esther 
Shepherd;  and  she  thought  a  great  deal  of 
him.  He  always  said  she  was  as  fine  an 
example  of  female  piety  as  he  ever  saw." 

"Where  is  she  now?  " 

"In  a  better  world,"  said  Mrs.  Butler. 
"She  passed  away  three  years  ago,  just 
about  the  time  Flossy  was  born." 

Arthur  would  have  asked  more,  but  Jonah 
appeared  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Butler  had 
only  time  to  say,  pleadingly,  "  She  was  sick 
a  great  while,  and  most  of  her  savings  were 
used  up;  but  Ida  and  Flora  have  each  a 
nice  little  income  of  thirty  dollars  of  their 
own;  and  it  saves  a  girl  for  us  to  have 
Flora, — she  is  very  smart." 

"Here  they  be,"  grunted  Jonah,  dumping 
the  parcels  he  carried  on  to  the  hair-cloth 
sofa,  from  which  they  rolled,  and  had  to  be 
picked  up  again.  Mrs.  Butler  opened  the 
larger  one  with  some  curiosity,  and  said 
that  Almira  was  always  so  kind  and  liberal, 
but  her  taste  was  too  gay  for  her,  and  she 
wished  the  things  were  a  little  plainer,  more 
suitable  for  a  minister's  family;  but  it  was 
very  good  in  her  to  remember  them.  She 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  Jl 

was  still  turning  over  the  contents,  crum- 
pled from  close  packing,  when  Flora  appeared 
in  the  doorway  with  the  usual  quiet  which 
characterized  her  movements.  In  her  arms 
she  carried  the  baby,  which  for  a  wonder 
happened  to  be  awake  and  silent ;  and  which 
she  hoped,  might  produce  a  favorable  impres- 
sion on  the  uncle,  and  perhaps  do  something 
toward  effacing  that  so  unfortunately  made 
by  its  brother  and  sister.  The  baby  was 
very  thin  and  small,  but  it  had  a  sweet  little 
face,  and  at  any  rate  it  could  not  throw 
stones;  so  she  put  on  its  best  frock,  and 
wrapped  it  in  a  white  shawl  which  had  been 
her  mother's.  That  it  might  be  the  better 
set  off,  she  wore  her  own  best  gown,  an  old 
blue  cashmere,  faded,  but  of  a  pretty  shade, 
and  the  only  one  she  possessed  which  had 
really  been  made  for  her;  but  that  was  a 
long  time  ago,  and  it  would  not  meet  in 
front,  so  she  turned  it  away  at  the  neck, 
threw  an  old  muslin  handkerchief  over  her 
shoulders,  and  knotting  it  loosely  in  front, 
thought  that  on  the  whole  it  looked  very  well. 
"  Here  is  your  dear  little  namesake, 
Arthur,"  said  Mrs.  Butler;  "I  suppose  you 
were  very  much  pleased  to  be  remembered, 
were  you  not  ?  " 


72  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Flora  looked  at  the  baby,  and  then  shyly 
at  Arthur,  as  if  to  claim  his  attention  for  it; 
but  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  her.  No  man 
had  ever  looked  at  her  in  such  a  way  before. 
She  had  never  had  a  lover  who  had  passed 
beyond  the  first  stage  of  courtship;  and  that 
stage  was  only  associated  in  her  mind  with 
forward  remarks,  and  rude  attempts  at  gal- 
lantry, which  had  frightened  her  and  made 
her  shrink  away,  and  cling  for  protection 
even  to  the  yet  more  timid  Ida. 

As  she  stood  with  the  baby  in  her  arms, 
its  weight  too  light  to  give  any  impression 
of  effort  in  the  holding,  and  yet  enough  to 
give  balance  and  poise  to  the  long  graceful 
lines  of  her  figure,  Arthur  was  thinking  that 
she  made  a  lovelier  image  than  had  yet  been 
given  to  the  world  of  that  blended  expres- 
sion which  should  mark  the  Virgin  Mother. 
He  was  too  penetrated  with  her  presence  to 
think  that  he  was  a  young  man  looking  at  a 
girl,  till  he  saw  her  dazzling  fairness  flush 
with  a  rosy  glow  like  a  snowpeak  in  the  sun- 
rise; and  then  he  turned  away,  feeling  that 
if  he  looked  longer  now,  the  worship  might 
profane  the  shrine.  He  wondered  if  Ida  were 
half  as  beautiful  as  her  sister,  and  thought 
that  if  she  were,  it  was  an  act  of  great  pre- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  73 

sumption  in  Orlando  to  have  married  her; 
and  then  he  wished,  as  he  always  did  when 
he  saw  anything  lovely  in  nature  or  art,  that 
he  could  share  his  pleasure  with  Miss  Curtis. 
How  she  would  enjoy  it !  As  for  him,  it 
was  well,  he  thought,  that  he  could  look  on 
beauty  with  a  purely  artistic  delight  of  the 
eye  alone. 

"  It  is  very  small,  is  it  not  ? "  he  asked, 
trying  to  pay  due  attention  to  the  baby;  "it 
is  odd  to  think  that  they  can  be  so  tiny." 

"It  is  improving,  we  hope,"  said  Mrs. 
Butler,  "  since  we  put  it  on  '  Mellin's  food  ;  ' 
the  only  trouble  is  that  it  is  very  expensive. " 

Arthur  did  not  feel  competent  to  discuss 
the  subject,  and  took  up  the  other  parcel, 
saying,  "  I  have  brought  a  little  present  for 
you,  mother,  from  a  friend  of  mine  —  Miss 
Curtis." 

"Courtin',  be  yer?"  asked  Jonah,  with  a 
more  knowing  grin  than  usual ;  and  Mrs. 
Butler  looked  anxious  as  she  said,  "I  hope 
she  is  a  nice  young  lady,  I  am  sure,  for 
your  sake,  Arthur.  Is  she  a  professor  of 
religion?  How  long  have  you  known  her?  " 

"For  several  years,"  said  Arthur;  "but 
there  is  nothing  of  what  you  imagine.  Miss 
Curtis,  I  should  think,  must  be  as  old  as 


74  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

you."  He  looked  at  his  mother  a  little 
doubtfully.  She  had  been  a  very  pretty  little 
woman,  and  was  still  a  very  pretty  little  old 
lady,  but  to  think  of  her  as  a  contemporary 
of  Miss  Curtis  seemed  thoroughly  absurd. 

"Is  she  a  Christian?"  went  on  Mrs. 
Butler. 

"Certainly." 

"And  what  denomination  does  she  be- 
long to  ? " 

"She  is  a  member  of  Trinity  Church." 

"Oh,  an  Episcopalian,"  said  Mrs.  But- 
ler, with  a  slight  shade  of  disappointment. 
"Still,  my  dear,  Episcopalians  may  be 
Christians;  I  have  known  several  excel- 
lent ones  in  that  denomination;"  and  she 
slowly  drew  from  the  "parcel,  which  Arthur 
had  untied,  a  colored  group  of  angels,  after 
Era  Angelico. 

"  Ah,  yes ;  it  is  very  pretty,  and  it  seems 
a  sacred  subject;  did  the  lady  paint  it  her- 
self, my  dear  ? " 

"No,  it  is  a  chromo-lithograph.  Miss 
Curtis  has  been  very  kind  to  me,  mother, 
and  she  sent  you  her  regards,  and  thought 
you  might  enjoy  the  picture,  as  it  is  a  favor- 
ite of  her  own." 

"  She  is  very  kind,  I  am  sure.      How  did 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     75 

you  come  to  know  her?  Did  she  board  in 
the  same  house  with  you?  " 

"No,  I  met  her  in  society,  and  she  has 
invited  me  a  great  deal." 

"  Does  she  live  with  friends  ?  " 

"No;  in  her  own  house. " 

"  Has  she  a  house  of  her  own  ?  I  suppose 
she  is  well  off." 

"Yes." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  "she  might 
do  something  for  us,  if  you  asked  her. 
Couldn't  you  tell  her  all  about  us, — Or- 
lando's being  a  minister,  and  Ida's  having 
such  poor  health?  She  might  feel  disposed 
to  help  us." 

"I  could  not  possibly  ask  her." 

"I  wish  I  knew  her,  and  I  bet  you  I'd 
ask  her,"  said  Jonah. 

"I  don't  see  why  not,"  said  his  mother. 
"  I  remember  my  dear  father  had  a  rich  and 
pious  friend,  Mr.  Isaac  Jacobus,  of  Utica, 
who  used  to  send  him  all  his  old  clothes; 
they  fitted  exactly,  and  he  seldom  had  to 
buy  any.  I  dare  say  Miss  Curtis  would 
gladly  take  up  a  collection  among  her 
friends  for  us." 

Arthur  said  no  more ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  silence  that  made  Flora  glad  to 


76  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

seize  a  chance  to  carry  the  baby  off;  it  was 
falling  asleep,  and  must  be  laid  down.  It 
was  always  going  to  sleep,  but  it  never 
stayed  asleep  long,  —  its  feeble  vitality  per- 
petually calling  for  food,  which  only  satisfied 
it  for  a  few  moments.  She  put  it  down, 
however,  and  stood  looking  at  it  for  a 
breathing-space,  while  the  flush  faded  from 
her  face.  She  had  been  prepared  to  dis- 
like Arthur  Butler  by  his  letter,  which  his 
mother  had  shown  her,  —  Mrs.  Butler  was 
one  of  those  women  who  show  every  letter 
they  receive  to  everybody  in  the  house,  — 
but  he  did  not  seem  like  the  man  who  had 
written  it,  or,  what  she  had  imagined  him, 
something  like  his  brother  John,  only  better 
educated.  Mrs.  Butler  was  always  fearing 
that  her  two  oldest  sons  were  growing 
"  worldly  and  fashionable ;  "  but  Arthur,  if 
he  resembled  any  one  she  had  ever  seen 
before,  reminded  her  of  her  own  father,  to 
whom  those  words  certainly  did  not  apply. 
Nay,  there  was  even  something  about  his 
elegant  attire  and  the  way  he  wore  it  that 
recalled  the  country  minister's  old  coats 
and  hats.  The  softened  tone  to  women, 
the  courtesies  unobtrusively  offered,  the 
gentle  deference,  as  to  beings  set  apart, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  77 

which  had  never  been  wanting  from  "  Parson 
Shepherd  "  to  any  woman,  even  to  his  little 
school-girl  daughters,  had  made  him,  in  the 
estimation  of  his  female  parishioners,  "a 
real  gentleman."  That  they  could  exist  in 
a  young  man,  and  a  man  of  the  world,  was  a 
revelation;  a  revelation,  too,  the  admiration 
for  her  beauty  that  gave  them  a  more  per- 
sonal application.  Orlando  was  kind  and 
good,  and  indulgent  to  feminine  weaknesses ; 
but  his  religion  had  taught  him  that  "favor 
was  deceitful,  and  beauty  was  vain ; "  and 
even  his  seventeen-year-old  bride,  in  the 
budding  bloom  of  her  youth,  had  never 
moved  him  to  love's  foolish  ecstasies. 

It  was  a  mercy  for  Flora  that  she  had  no 
more  time  to  think  over  these  problems ; 
the  few  minutes  she  had  were  too  much. 
She  was  soon  busy  again,  and  did  not  appear 
at  tea,  except  to  fill  her  sister's  tray;  and 
she  stayed  up  stairs  to  put  the  children  to 
bed,  and  settle  Ida  for  the  night,  while 
Orlando,  enveloped  in  a  big  apron,  patiently 
toiled  to  clear  away  below,  and  Mrs.  Butler, 
in  the  sitting-room,  told  Arthur  that  Flora 
was  a  remarkable  girl,  and  could  do  any- 
thing. Her  father  had  fitted  her  to  teach 
before  his  death,  and  she  was  a  splendid 


78  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

sick-nurse;  she  had  nursed  her  aunt  for 
two  years  with  a  cancer,  and  had  taken 
care  of  Ida  since  the  baby  was  three  days 
old. 

Arthur  did  not  come  to  breakfast  the  next 
morning,  thinking  that  his  presence  at  so 
early  an  hour  might  be  an  incumbrance  in 
the  small,  crowded  house.  He  went  out  to 
walk,  and  think  over  the  hopeless  muddle 
of  family  affairs,  and  in  the  midst  of  his 
thinking  came  upon  Orlando,  coming  from 
the  village  store;  for  though  this  was  the 
one  piece  of  domestic  duty  at  which  Jonah 
never  rebelled,  he  had  not  of  late  been  as 
useful  in  it  as  formerly,  the  store-keeper 
beginning  to  find  that  he  was  suddenly  out 
of  the  articles  required.  Orlando,  in  his  cler- 
ical character,  could  still  command  respect 
and  attention,  and  though  it  was  unpleasant 
for  him  to  ask  for  what  he  might  never  be 
able  to  pay  for,  what  can  a  husband  and 
father  do  when  his  sickly  baby  refuses  to 
eat  anything  but  Mellin's  Food?  He  had 
found  the  people  unusually  civil  to-day, 
owing  to  rumors  of  Arthur's  arrival  in  the 
town,  and  was  returning  with  his  little 
parcel  in  his  hand  when  the  brothers  met. 
They  could  not  talk  over  their  private  affairs 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  79 

in  the  street,  empty  as  it  was;  but  when 
they  had  reached  home  and  crossed  the  little 
garden,  where  Jonah,  also  under  the  influ- 
ence of  that  overmastering  presence,  had 
begun  to  spade  up  the  ground  in  an  aimless 
way,  and  walked  round  to  the  back  door  of 
the  house,  Arthur  threw  himself  on  the 
bench  in  the  porch,  with  "  I  should  like  to 
have  a  few  words  with  you,  Orlando." 

"In  a  moment,"  said  Orlando,  entering 
the  house  with  his  parcel;  and  under  the 
circumstances  perhaps  he  cannot  be  blamed 
if  the  moment  extended  to  two,  which  gave 
Arthur,  always  self-possessed,  time  to  get 
his  breath  and  muster  his  thoughts,  and  he 
began  with  alarming  formality :  — 

"  You  know  that  J  have  supported  my 
mother  almost  entirely  since  I  was  fifteen, 
though  not  at  first  as  well  as  I  could  wish. 
Of  late  years  I  have  been  able  to  give  her  a 
sum  large  enough  to  keep  her  in  comfort,  — 
quite  as  large  as,  w,ith  her  simple  habits,  she 
required.  I  was  obliged  for  years  to  prac- 
tise the  greatest  economy  to  do  this.  I 
never  expected  any  of  my  brothers  to  help 
me.  Such  little  assistance  as  John  chooses 
to  give  I  never  asked,  though  I  am  willing 
for  his  own  sake  to  accept  it.  I  offer  no  com- 


80  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

plaint,  and  I  make  no  boast.  I  should  have 
felt  it  beneath  me  to  do  any  less.  Now  f 
find  that  you  have  all  come  down  upon  her, 
and  are  eating  up  her  substance.  The 
allowance  I  make  her  is  certainly  not  enough 
to  keep  such  a  family.  What  reason  have 
you  to  suppose  that  I  am  able,  even  if 
inclined,  to  give  any  more?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Orlando,  deject- 
edly, —  "I  did  not  like  to  bring  the  whole 
family  to  mother's,  but  it  seemed  the  best, 
that  is,  the  only  thing  to  do  under  the  cir- 
cumstances; and  I  did  not  think  that  it 
would  last  so  long." 

"  How  much  longer  do  you  suppose  it 
will  last?" 

"  I  cannot  say.  Dr.  Griscom  hopes  that  if 
Ida  goes  on  as  well  as  she  is  doing  now,  she 
can  come  downstairs  in  another  week  or  two. 
It  all  depends  upon  the  baby;  worrying 
about  him  keeps  her  back  terribly.  I  may 
be  able  to  get  off  and  preach  somewhere  as 
a  candidate.  I  should  have  gone  before,  but 
I  really  could  not  leave  her." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  your  difficulties,  but  I 
don't  see  that  they  give  you  the  right  to 
deprive  my  mother,  for  whom  you  have 
never  done  anything,  of  the  comforts  of  her 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  8 1 

home,  and  what  is  worse,  of  her  reputation. 
John  tells  me  you  have  left  your  parish  in 
debt.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  have 
been  better  to  stay  and  face  it  out  than  to 
come  here  and  start  afresh  upon  her  credit." 

"  I  hoped  when  I  came  to  find  something 
to  do." 

"The  church  here  is  empty,  it  seems. 
Was  there  any  chance  of  their  giving  you  a 
call  ? " 

"No,"  said  Orlando,  with  a  little  reluc- 
tance; "I  —  I  don't  think  that  a  man  has 
much  chance  of  a  call  where  he  was  born 
and  brought  up.  I  thought  I  should  get  the 
weddings  and  funerals  and  such ;  but  it  has 
unfortunately  happened  that  they  have  gen- 
erally come  when  I  was  unable  to  attend 
them." 

"You  can  hardly  expect  people  to  time 
their  exit  from  the  world  so  as  to  put  burial- 
fees  into  your  pocket, "  said  Arthur.  Orlando 
made  no  answer,  and  his  brother  went  on: 
"  I  suppose  you  thought  you  had  something 
to  fall  back  upon.  You  knew  me  well 
enough  to  feel  sure  that  I  would  never  allow 
my  mother  to  be  in  debt  in  my  native  town. 
Wringing  money  out  of  me  in  this  way  may 
accord  with  the  character  of  a  clergyman ; 
6 


82     BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

I  cannot  say  that  it  does  with  my  notion  of 
a  gentleman." 

"  I  did  think  you  might  be  willing  to  do  a 
little  for  us." 

"  My  being  willing,  as  I  have  told  you 
before,  is  not  the  point ;  you  had  no  reason 
to  know  that  I  was  able.  You  know  that  I 
earned  every  cent  that  I  paid  for  my  own 
education,  and  that  while  I  was  helping  my 
mother,  even  from  the  first,  I  had  no  assis- 
tance till  I  won  a  scholarship  at  college; 
while  you  were  educated  by  the  Ladies'  Home 
Missionary  Society,  and  kept  into  the  bar- 
gain. You  are  only  a  year  younger  than  I 
am,  and  the  start  they  gave  you  ought  to 
have  counterbalanced  that.  I  made  one 
resolution  which  I  have  never  broken,  that 
I  would  never  get  into  debt.  What  I  spent, 
I  earned  first.  If  I  had  to  run  in  debt  now 
to  pay  what  you  owe  here,  I  would  not  do 
it ;  but  do  it  I  shall,  and  that  before  I  leave 
this  place." 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  going  to  be  too  great  an 
inconvenience  to  you." 

"  Your  anxiety  comes  rather  late.  I  have 
asked  Taylor  to  send  his  account  in  to  me 
to-night.  Are  there  any  others  ? '' 

"There  is  Mr.   Snyder  for  milk,  and  the 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     83 

butcher  for  meat  and  vegetables,  —  but  that 
is  not  much." 

"  Get  them  for  me  this  afternoon,  if  you 
please.  Have  you  any  doctor's  bill?  " 

"Oh,  no,  Dr.  Griscom  never  charges  me 
anything.  He  would  not  to  a  minister's 
family." 

"I  do  not  see  why  he  should  give  his  time 
for  nothing  to  them,  any  more  than  they 
should  to  him.  Does  he  pay  no  pew- 
rent  ? " 

"He  never  goes  to  meeting,  you  know;" 
said  Orlando,  simply. 

"I  presume,"  said  Arthur,  "if  he  doctors 
the  clergy  for  nothing,  he  must  see  enough 
of  them  elsewhere." 

Orlando  made  no  answer  to  this  sarcasm, 
and  Arthur,  angry  at  having  lowered  him- 
self by  making  it,  was  silent  too  for  a 
moment,  and  then  began  again,  still  in  the 
same  slow,  serene,  exquisitely  modulated 
voice:  "The  fact  is,  Orlando,  you  began 
wrong.  Your  trade,  if  you  will  excuse  me 
for  saying  so,  is  a  beggarly  one,  unless  you 
can  stand  at  the  top  of  it.  First,  your  edu- 
cation was  given  you,  and  you  were  sup- 
ported while  you  had  it,  out  of  a  parcel  of 
old  women's  money-boxes;  that  takes  the 


84  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

stuff  out  of  a  man,  and  makes  him  go  on 
passing  -the  hat  round  the  rest  of  his  life. 
Our  grandfather  was  always  doing  so,  and 
mother  was  brought  up  to  think  it  a  matter 
of  course.  I  suppose  your  father-in-law 
brought  up  his  family  on  the  same  princi- 
ple; it  is  the  badge  of  the  tribe.  Now,  if 
the  supply  is  greater  than  the  demand  in 
this  business,  or  if  you  don't  know  how  to 
meet  the  demand,  I  should  say  you  had 
better  try  something  else." 

"I  am  sure,"  said  Orlando,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "I  would  gladly  do  anything  I  could 
for  the  'support  of  my  wife  and  children.  I 
did  hope  —  I  hope  I  have  not  been  alto- 
gether useless  in  the  ministry,  but  I  know 
that  he  that  provideth  not  for  his  own  is 
worse  than  a  heathen." 

"  I  should  feel  more  disposed  to  help  you 
if  you  had  been  more  ingenuous  with  me 
from  the  first,  and  asked  for  help,  instead  of 
screwing  it  out  of  me  in  this  way;  I  suppose 
you  must  stay  on  here  till  you  find  some- 
thing, but  you  must  keep  a  strict  account  of 
your  expenses  here,  and  forward  it  to  me 
weekly.  Your  debts  in  Pompey  you  cannot 
expect  me  to  take  up." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Orlando;  "we  will  try 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.       .     85 

to  be  as  saving  as  we  can.  You  are  very 
kind." 

It  was  now  Arthur's  turn  to  feel  as  if  his 
brother  might  be  indulging  in  satire,  though 
nothing  could  be  less  meaning  than  the  tone 
in  which  these  words  were  said,  and  he 
answered,  with  the  first  sign  of  irritation  he 
had  shown:  "There  is  one  way  in  which  I 
should  like  to  see  you  saving  less;  you  seem 
to  be  getting  all  the  household  work  out  of 
that  girl,  and  letting  her  pay  you  for  doing 
it ;  it  strikes  me  that  the  bargain  is  a  dear 
one  at  thirty  dollars  a  year." 

Orlando,  who  had  winced  somewhat  under 
his  brother's  previous  sarcasms,  looked  sur- 
prised at  this  one,  as  if  the  idea  were  en- 
tirely new  to  him.  "  Flora  would  not  be 
happy  away  from  Ida,"  he  quietly  remarked; 
"  she  would  not  go  if  I  should  try  to  make 
her." 

"It  is  scandalous,"  said  Arthur,  with  ris- 
ing heat;  "you  ought  to  have  one  servant, 
at  least,  to  relieve  her.  See  that  you  get 
one  as  soon  as  possible,  and  I  will  pay  her 
wages." 

"Well,"  said  Orlando,  —"  if  you  can 
afford  so  much  money.  Girls  are  very 
hard  to  get  here,  and  indeed  I  hardly  know 


86  BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS. 

where   we  can   put  one  now,    the  house  is 
so  full." 

"Get  one  to  come  by  the  day,  then." 
"  That  would  cost  a  great  deal  more. " 
"Never  mind  how  much  it  costs.     I  will 
not  have  a  young  lady  cooking  my  dinner 
when  I  come  here.     It  is  not  proper  work 
for  her." 

"Almost  all  our  ladies  here  do  their  own 
work,"  said  Orlando,  still  mildly  astonished. 
"  Even  John's  wife  does,  a  good  deal  of  the 
time." 

Arthur  reddened,  conscious  that  there  was 
something  silly  and  snobbish  in  the  tone  of 
his  last  remark,  coming  from  a  man  who  had 
so  many  times  seen  his  mother  over  the 
cooking-stove  or  washing-tub;  conscious  too, 
that  if  Flora  had  been  Mrs.  John's  sister, 
and  cut  out  on  her  pattern,  the  spectacle  of 
her  doing  any  kind  of  work  would  have  been 
one  to  regard  with  equanimity.  He  felt  that 
he  was  put  at  a  disadvantage  in  continuing 
the  discussion  and  was  glad  when  a  some- 
what awkward  pause  was  broken  by  the 
ringing  of  the  bell  for  dinner,  at  which  meal 
Flora  appeared  with  burning  cheeks,  the 
heat  produced  by  cooking  on  a  languid 
spring  day  having  been  doubled  by  over- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  87 

hearing  the  whole  of  the  above  conversation, 
carried  on  in  audible  masculine  tones  just 
outside  the  kitchen  window,  at  a  point  where 
running  away  meant  ruin  to  a  not  over 
abundant  repast.  She  had  the  uncomforta- 
ble sensation,  doubly  so  to  a  woman,  of  not 
being  able  thoroughly  to  take  part  with 
either  speaker.  She  thought  Arthur  hard 
and  cruel,  and  yet  she  could  not  but  own 
that  what  he  said  had  some  justice  in 
it.  She  loathed,  herself,  to  be  in  debt,  and 
she  thought  of  her  father's  and  her  aunt 
Esther's  housekeeping,  where  every  penny 
due  was  paid  before  Saturday  night;  but 
then  no  one  was  ever  ill,  or  lazy,  in  those 
far-off,  far-away,  halcyon  days ! 

As  to  what  was  said  of  herself,  personally, 
it  touched  her  little.  They  had  never  kept 
a  servant  at  her  father's,  and  Aunt  Esther 
had  always  said  household  work  was  a  fit  and 
proper  occupation  for  a  lady,  and  that  all 
the  noble  women  in  history  and  poetry  were 
proficients  in  it.  Only,  Aunt  Esther's  house- 
keeping was  in  a  different  style  from  this,  —  a 
housekeeping  of  white  curtains  and  flowers 
in  the  windows,  and  dainty  little  dishes  and 
old  china  on  the  table.  She  had  not  time 
to  do  anything  now  as  it  ought  to  be  done, 


88     BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

and  she  knew  that  every  day  she  was  giving 
up  something  that  her  aunt  had  thought 
essential.  But  let  things  be  as  bad  as  they 
would,  she  would  never  have  a  servant  to 
help  her  whose  wages  were  to  come  out  of 
Mr.  Arthur  Butler's  pocket! 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     89 


CHAPTER  V. 

"    A  RTHUR'S  going  to  take  me  to  ride 

£\  this  afternoon;"  said  Mrs.  Butler, 
as  they  rose  from  the  table.  "  I  asked  if  he 
would  n't  get  Hazard's  double  team,  and 
then  you  could  come  too,  Orlando,  and  take 
the  children." 

"Flora  must  go;  "  said  Orlando. 

"Thank  you  very  much,  but  I  cannot  pos- 
sibly," said  Flora,  as  she  left  the  room. 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  can  leave,"  said  Mrs. 
Butler. 

Arthur  said  nothing,  agreeable  as  the 
prospect  of  the  exchange  was ;  but  Orlando, 
leaving  the  room  in  his  turn,  pursued  his 
sister-in-law  into  the  depths  of  the  kitchen : 
"  Come,  Flora,  you  must  go ;  it  will  do  you 
good." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Orlando,  but  I  don't 
see  how  I  can.  If  you  will  go,  and  take 
Landy  and  Flossy,  it  will  be  the  best  thing 
you  can  do ;  I  can  get  plenty  of  time  then  for 
all  the  work." 


9O  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"So  can  I,"  said  Orlando;  and  seeing  that 
she  looked  doubtful  of  his  powers,  he  cut 
short  the  argument  by  saying,  "  Come,  come, 
child !  run  along !  you  must  "get  out  some- 
times, and  you  will  work  better  when  you 
come  home.  I  insist  upon  it,"  he  added. 
There  was  a  little  touch  of  decision  about 
him  when  he  spoke  to  his  wife  and  her  sis- 
ter, and  Flora  turned  slowly  away.  She 
did  not  know  whether  she  wanted  most  to 
go  or  to  stay  at  home;  but  when  she  had 
hastily  dressed  herself  and  run  downstairs, 
her  heart  was  beating  fast  with  that  tumul- 
tuous pleasure  that  presages  pain,  —  perhaps 
because,  at  nineteen,  it  was  years  since  she 
had  had  any  pleasure  properly  so-called. 
Arthur  was  waiting  at  the  door,  having 
already  settled  his  mother  carefully  on  the 
back  seat  of  the  wagon,  with  Flossy  by  her 
side. 

As  the  two  children,  for  the  sake  of 
peace,  could  not  be  trusted  together,  Master 
Orlando  must  sit  in  front,  between  his  uncle 
and  aunt, — "like  a  family"  as  Jonah  re- 
marked from  the  doorstep,  rather  provoked 
that  he  had  not  been  asked  when  there  was 
plenty  of  room.  But  his  words  fell  unheeded 
on  the  ears  of  the  pair  as  they  drove  away 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     91 

from  indoor  cares  and  darkness  in  the  quiver- 
ing light  air  of  early  spring,  — too  soft,  too 
sweet,  too  new  to  make  one  feel  the  need  of 
more  shade  than  was  given  by  the  tender  bud- 
ding boughs.  Arthur  drove  a  lively  pair  of 
bay  horses,  and  drove  them  well.  He  had  had 
no  early  training  in  this  and  kindred  pur- 
suits; but  he  knew  that  they  were  part  of  a 
gentleman's  education;  he  had  not  in  col- 
lege worked  harder  at  his  books  than  at 
athletics  of  all  kinds,  trying  to  replace  the 
second  nature  of  early  habit  by  the  putting 
of  a  powerful  mind  to  master  every  minute 
detail ;  and  he  had  succeeded  so  far  that  he 
now  seemed  to  throw  no  effort  into  his  easy 
handling  of  the  reins,  and  had  plenty  of 
attention  to  spare  for  his  fair  companion. 
She  wore  her  blue  cashmere  dress  and  white 
fichu,  and  on  the  back  of  her  head,  the  only 
place  where  it  would  fit,  a  large,  old,  broad- 
brimmed,  black  straw  hat,  too  rusty  and 
broken  for  even  Orlando's  wear;  but  she 
had  covered  it  with  coarse  black  net  fulled 
on  and  drawn  into  a  great  rosette  at  one 
side.  Even  set  sharply  against  this  back- 
ground, the  lines  of  her  throat  and  chin 
were  too  soft,  too  delicate,  to  be  fitly  shown 
by  the  finest  pencil  line,  and  every  crisp 


92      BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

bright  tendril  of  her  hair  shone  separate  out 
in  a  way  no  brush  could  imitate.  They  were 
close  before  his  eyes,  and  the  arm  that  she 
had  thrown  round  the  little  boy  was  so  near 
that  her  small  ungloved  hand  touched  his 
coat.  Flora  had  no  gloves  or  sunshade,  and 
no  money  to  buy  them ;  but  as  she  faced  the 
sun  for  a  ten-mile  drive,  the  pearly  whiteness 
of  her  skin  seemed  intensified  by  the  light, 
while  the  heightened  color  on  her  cheek 
looked  like  some  transient  effect  of  cloud 
or  rainbow,  too  bright  to  last.  "Really," 
he  thought,  "she  has  enough  points  to  fit 
out  a  dozen  professional  beauties.  Why,  her 
very  hair  is  enough  to  found  a  reputation 
on!  "  His  being  able  to  notice  all  these  at- 
tractions so  minutely  and  accurately  showed 
that  there  was  no  danger,  any  more  than 
there  might  be  from  a  picture  he  might 
admire,  and  made  him  feel  safe  in  trying  to 
penetrate  a  little  below  the  surface. 

"  Have  you  been  on  many  of  the  drives 
about  here  ? "  he  began  as  they  bowled 
smoothly  along. 

"  I  have  not  been  on  any." 

"Then  I  will  choose  one,  if  you  don't 
mind.  The  country  here  has  not  much  to 
boast  of ;  it  is  rather  out  of  the  way  of  the 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  93 

scenery  districts  of  New  York;  but  it  is 
rich  and  fertile,  and  fields  and  farms  any- 
where look  pleasant  in  spring." 

"It  is  pretty,"  said  Flora,  shyly,  "very 
pretty,  but  it  seems  to  want  something  ;  I 
don't  know  how  to  express  it,  but  it  is  all  so 
much  alike." 

"  It  wants  what  a  painter  would  call  com- 
position, you  mean  ?  That  is  the  lack  in  a 
great  deal  of  our  pretty  rural  scenery;  this 
rolling  ground  with  one  great  swelling  field 
after  another,  lacks  point  and  contrast." 

"There  are  beautiful  trees  here  though," 
said  Flora,  looking  admiringly  at  a  row  of 
tall  oaks  in  a  hedgerow.  "  I  wish  there 
were  more  of  them  together  so  as  to  make  a 
wood." 

"  Yes,  you  want  something  bolder  to  set 
off  these  rich,  fertile  foregrounds,  some  dis- 
tant peak,  some  dark  belt  of  forest,  some  rock 
cropping  out  here  and  there." 

"  It  seems  a  pity  to  find  fault  when  there 
is  so  much  that  is  beautiful.  Now  that  I 
can  see  the  lake  in  the  distance,  through 
the  trees,  I  could  almost  fancy  that  it  is  one 
of  the  lakes  at  home." 

"  You  mean  at  Cazenovia,  or  Pompey  ? " 

"  No ;  they  never  came  to  seem  like  home. 


94  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

I  mean  our  old  home ;  that  was  at  Croydon, 
—  Croydon,  in  New  Hampshire.  I  was 
born  there,  and  we  lived  there  till  my  father 
died." 

"Croydon!  yes,  that  is  a  beautiful  place; 
I  was  there  last  year." 

"Oh,  have  you  been  there?  Did  you  see 
it?  How  long  did  you  stay?"  cried  Flora, 
now  growing  pale  with  eagerness.  "Did 
you  — "  she  began  again,  but  paused,  un- 
able to  say  another  word. 

"  I  was  on  a  coaching  tour  with  a  party  of 
friends,  and  we  drove  down  through  Croydon 
on  our  way  from  Sunapee  to  Newport  by  the 
back  road  over  the  hills  —  and  a  rough  road 
it  was ;  but  the  views  were  so  fine  that  I  do 
not  think  any  of  us  heeded  that  but  Man- 
ning, who  was  worrying  about  his  horses. 
However,  they  did  it  splendidly.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  last  pitch  down  the  hill  to 
the  village  of  —  Croydon  Flats,  do  you  call 
it  ? " 

"  Oh,  how  often  I  have  been  that  way !  " 
said  the  girl,  with  a  long  breath. 

"Did  you  live  up  there?  " 

"No,  we  lived  in  the  village,  near  the 
church.  Perhaps  you  saw  the  house,  —  a 
white  house  with  a  garden  in  front,  and  a 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  95 

bow  window  over  the  porch."  She  looked 
so  eager  that  Arthur  was  sorry  to  confess 
that  he  could  not  identify  the  house. 

"There  were  several  pretty  old  houses 
there.  I  did  not  know  but  that  you  lived  in 
that  picturesque  brown  house,  with  the  holly- 
hocks up  to  the  eaves,  on  the  edge  of  the 
pond  near  the  foot  of  the  hill." 

"  Rocky-Bound,  you  mean ;  we  used  to  go 
there.  Father  had  to  visit  his  parish  all 
over  the  hills,  and  he  used  to  take  us  too. 
Sometimes  he  took  Aunt  Esther,  and  some- 
times Ida  and  me  together;  we  could  not 
all  go  very  often,  because  Deacon  Wilcox 
used  to  lend  us  his  horse  and  chaise,  and  it 
would  not  hold  us  all.  The  horse  had  to 
walk  all  the  way  up  that  long  hill,  and 
father  would  take  the  time  to  teach  us  our 
lessons.  He  could  say  all  the  verbs  from 
memory,  and  a  great  deal  of  poetry."  She 
was  talking  more  to  herself  than  to  her 
companion,  and  now,  suddenly  seeming  to 
recollect  his  presence,  stopped  short,  the 
fugitive  color  flushing  her  cheeks  again. 

"  I  should  think  the  scene  more  congenial 
to  poetry  than  verbs;"  said  Arthur,  smil- 
ing, but  it  was  a  good-natured  smile,  such 
as  is  given  to  children  from  older  ones  who 


96  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

are  fond  of  them,  and  seemed  to  put  her  at 
her  ease,  for  she  smiled  back  again,  showing 
her  pearls  of  teeth,  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  seen  her  smile. 

"  Yes,  is  it  not  lovely  ?  And  when  we  got 
to  the  top  we  always  used  to  drive  into  Mrs. 
Welcome  Partridge's;  she  lived  in  that 
house  —  did  you  see  it?  — on  the  right  hand 
as  you  go  up,  just  at  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
where  you  can  look  so  far  off.  We  always 
used  to  go  in  there  to  see  the  view,  and  rest 
the  horse,  and,  ask  how  she  was,  for  she  was 
a  friend  of  Aunt  Esther's.  I  wonder  if  she 
lives  there  yet.  Does  it  look  as  if  she  did? " 

"I  remember  the  house;  it  is  in  a  lovely 
situation,  — but  the  only  one  of  the  family  I 
saw  was  a  dog  who  barked  at  ue. " 

"Was  he  a  large  black  and  white  dog, 
with  long  hair? " 

"I  think  so." 

"  If  it  was  Bonny,  he  meant  no  harm,  —  he 
never  bites." 

"  No,  it  was  a  bark  of  friendly  character, 
I  assure  you." 

"But  perhaps,"  said  Flora,  thoughtfully, 
"  it  was  not  Bonny.  That  was  more  than 
five  years  ago,  and  five  years  is  a  great  while 
for  a  dog." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  97 

"Auntie  Flora,"  interrupted  young  Or- 
lando, "  was  that  the  dog  Bonny?  " 

"Yes,  dear,  I  hope  so." 

"Tell  me  how  you  used  to  make  Bonny 
jump ! " 

"  No,  not  now,  Landy  dear. " 

"But  I  want  you  to,"  persisted  the  boy. 

"There  is  a  real  dog,"  said  Flora;  "look 
at  him ;  and  there  are  oxen  in  the  barnyard. " 

She  gave  her  attention  to  the  children, 
who  now  began  to  be  restless;  for  though 
pleased  at  first  with  the  novelty  of  the  drive, 
their  mercurial  natures  would  not  long 
endure  the  confinement;  and  Arthur  had  to 
stop  his  horses  while  their  places  were 
changed,  Miss  Flossy  clamoring  for  her 
turn  at  driving,  much  to  Landy 's  disgust. 
"Girls  can't  drive!"  he  insisted,  rousing 
his  sister's  wrath  in  return,  until  Flora  set- 
tled the  point, — whether  by  coaxing,  or 
promising,  or  reasoning,  it  is  difficult  to 
say;  she  settled  it  in  rather  doubtful  fash- 
ion, for  there  were  renewed  outbreaks  of 
petulance  from  both  children  until  the  rapid 
motion  and  the  warm  weather  lulled  them 
to  sleep,  —  Landy  with  his  head  on  his 
grandmother's  lap,  and  Flossy  in  her  aunt's 
arms.  Arthur  would  now  have  renewed  the 
7 


98  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

conversation;  but  Flora  was  silent,  ashamed 
of  having  said  so  much  in  her  momentary 
excitement.  Without  appearing  to  notice 
this  he  began  to  talk  to  her  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  telling  her  about  his  coaching 
trip  and  various  little  incidents  connected 
with  it.  He  had  never  tried  so  hard  to 
please,  for  he  would  have  given  much  to  see 
her  smile  again.  She  did  not;  but  there 
was  an  inspiring  intentness  in  the  way  she 
listened,  that  brought  back  more  vividly  his 
own  recollections  of  the  lovely,  lonely  ways 
that  tempt  you  so  irresistibly  to  trace  out 
their  hidden  windings  among  the  heaped-up, 
"  green  -muffled  "  Croydon  hills.  He  went 
on  to  describe  his  companions,  other  coach- 
ing tours,  other  adventures,  —  anything 
that  might  amuse  her;  yet,  when  his 
mother's  house  was  reached  again,  and  he 
watched  her  till  she  entered  the  door  with 
the  half -awakened  children  clinging  to  her 
skirts,  there  was  something  in  the  stately 
grace  of  her  vanishing  form  that  contrasted 
all  the  more  painfully  with  the  contracted, 
ill-kept  surroundings,  because  even  this 
poor  shelter  was  hers  only  on  sufferance, 
and  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been  almost  cruel  to 
give  her  an  outlook  into  a  brighter  life, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     99 

his  life,  — the  one  that  it  was  in  his  power 
to  take  up  again  when  he  left  his  old  home, 
where  but  few  tender  associations  pleaded 
for  remembrance.  Yet  he  was  beginning  to 
perceive  that  the  settlement  of  his  family 
problems  was  not  so  simple  as  it  had 
appeared  to  him  from  a  distance,  and  that  it 
would  cost  him  more  money  than  had  at  all 
entered  into  his  calculations,  and  which  he 
must  give  if  he  would  not  look  mean  in  his 
own  eyes. 

Sunday  morning  dawned  clear  and  bright, 
and  Mrs.  Butler  had  the  satisfaction  of  put- 
ting on  her  carefully  preserved  black  silk 
gown,  and  walking  to  church  on  one  son's 
arm  to  hear  the  other  preach.  Neither  said 
a  word  to  'damp  her  enjoyment,  though 
Arthur  would  much  rather  have  stayed  at 
home,  and  Orlando,  but  for  the  impropriety 
of  the  thing,  would  much  rather  have  had 
him.  If  anything  was  appalling  to  the  poor 
fellow,  it  was  to  have  Arthur  for  a  listener, 
perfectly  dressed,  imperturbably  attentive, 
with  an  air  of  condescending,  critical  civil- 
ity, under  which  a  familiar  eye  might 
perceive  that  he  was  decorously  amused. 
Arthur,  meanwhile,  was  mentally  calculat- 
ing his  brother's  chances  of  a  "good  parish," 


IOO          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

and  concluding  that  they  were  not  promis- 
ing. It  seemed  incredible  to  him  that 
Orlando  could  make  so  little  of  his  oppor- 
tunities. "  He  reads  the  Scriptures  with 
the  regular  theological-seminary  whine!  " 
he  thought;  "and  how  much  any  one  who 
knew  how  could  make  out  of  that  chapter ! " 
The  prayers,  too,  were  in  the  old  stock 
phraseology;  surely  there  were  plenty  of 
chances  for  telling  variations  at  that  time 
of  day.  Orlando,  meanwhile,  was  finding 
some  comfort  in  the  old  phrases,  as  so  many 
cast-down  souls  have  done  before  him,  and 
he  gave  out  his  text  and  began  his  sermon 
without  thinking  of  any  one's  presence, 
until  recalled  by  the  slight,  almost  imper- 
ceptible gleam  of  amusement  in  Arthur's 
eye,  as  he  was  reflecting  that  Orlando  did 
not  even  put  the  case  as  well  as  it  might  be 
put.  "  How  should  he,"  he  thought,  —  "set 
up  in  a  pulpit  for  half  an  hour  with  no 
one  to  answer  back  again?  I  should  like  to 
hear  one  of  these  parsons  pleading  a  case  in 
an  equity  court !  It  would  teach  them  some- 
thing to  pitch  them  against  each  other. 
They  might  at  least  learn  to  keep  their 
audience  awake ! "  as  he  regarded  the  com- 
fortable slumbers  of  the  honest  farmers  from 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.          IOI 

the  country  round.  Orlando's  mild  counte- 
nance and  dejected,  threadbare  look  gave 
an  apologetic  air  to  his  threats  of  future 
punishment,  which  sounded  like  those  he 
gave  his  own  naughty  children,  not  destined 
to  be  enforced ;  they  lost  what  terrors  they 
had  with  every  repetition;  for  repeat  he  did 
till  the  allotted  time  was  up,  when  he  sub- 
sided into  a  short  prayer,  gave  out  a  hymn, 
and  sank  down  behind  his  pulpit  with  a 
sense  of  relief. 

The  dinner  was  after  the  usual  pattern. 
Flora  did  not  appear  at  all.  She  had  taken 
pains  to  carry  up  her  sister's  tray  before  she 
rang  the  bell ;  for  somehow,  though  she  took 
herself  to  task  for  being  so  silly,  she  did 
not  like  being  seen  by  Mr.  Butler  in  her 
shabby  old  gown ;  and  she  could  not  change 
it  till  she  had  cleared  away  for  the  after- 
noon. Even  then  his  presence  seemed 
somehow  to  pervade  the  whole  house,  mak- 
ing her  mortified  as  she  looked  around  her 
room,  with  its  torn  paper  shades  and  dirty 
towels,  its  broken  toilet-set  and  table  halt- 
ing on  three  legs.  How  could  she  help  it? 
It  was  called  hers,  but  she  and  Orlando 
slept  there  on  alternate  nights,  to  look  after 
Landy  and  Flossy,  while  the  other  slept  on 


102          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

a  sofa  in  Ida's  room.  The  small  box  of  a 
place  was  filled  with  the  children's  belong- 
ings, and  her  own  private  possessions  were 
anywhere  or  nowhere.  She  had  had  no  time 
to  tidy  it  up  that  morning,  as  while  Arthur 
was  there  a  more  elaborate  dinner  must  be 
cooked,  for  which  she  had  neither  Mrs. 
Butler's  help,  nor  Orlando's  more  efficient 
aid. 

Aunt  Esther  used  to  say  that  a  lady's 
chamber  should  always  be  in  perfect  order, 
and  a  stray  pair  of  gloves  or  bit  of  string 
had  often  been  made  the  text  for  a  discourse 
in  the  girls'  little  bow  windowed,  wainscoted, 
rose-papered  room  at  Croydon.  How  easy  of 
attainment  neatness  had  then  seemed,  and 
how  Aunt  Esther,  when  she  had  herself  put 
on  that  paper,  bought  at  ten  cents  a  roll, 
had  declared  with  some  pride  that  one  could 
have  things  pretty  with  very  little  money. 
A  sense  of  burning  shame  and  passionate 
regret  brought  hot  tears  to  Flora's  eyes; 
but  she  was  too  young  yet  for  tears  to  leave 
their  traces  long,  and  she  came  downstairs 
"fair  and  fresh  as  rose  on  thorn  "  to  find 
Arthur  conscientiously  endeavoring  to  make 
himself  agreeable  to  his  little  nephew  and 
niece,  who  reminded  him  of  fireworks,  so 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  103 

brilliantly  pretty  and  unexpectedly  explosive 
were  they.  He  could  think  of  nothing  but 
showing  them  his  watch,  which  he  had  tried 
upon  Mrs.  Perry's  —  Rosamond  Curtis's  — 
baby.  They  inspected  it  with  eager  and 
dangerous  curiosity,  Landy  remarking  that 
"poppa  used  to  have  one,  but  not  such  a 
pretty  one." 

"  I  have  tried  so  hard  not  to  have  them 
catch  that  odious  word ! "  thought  Flora ; 
"  but  they  pick  up  everything  they  hear,  and 
since  Laurea  came  the  last  time  they  talk 
just  as  she  did!  "  The  sudden  pull  up  of  a 
horse  and  buggy  at  the  gate,  showed  her 
that  her  reminiscences  had  been,  as  they 
often  are,  premonitory,  and  the  occupants 
descended  with  great  flutter  of  drapery  and 
furling  of  sunshades. 

"It's  John  and  Almira,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Butler;  "I  wish  they  wouldn't  break  the 
Sabbath  so !  "  and  her  welcome  to  her  first- 
born child  was  rather  a  faint  one :  "  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you,  John,  — but  couldn't 
you  have  come  yesterday  ?  " 

"Not  while  I  have  my  books  to  balance; 
you  '11  have  to  put  up  with  me  when  you  can 
get  me,  mother." 

"I  'm  sure,"  said  Almira,  loudly,  "plenty 


IO4          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

of  church  members  ride  out  on  Sabbath  day. 
We  met  Deacon  Walsh  himself,  with  his 
brother  from  Utica,  and  Mr.  Murdock  with 
a  whole  carriage  load  of  his  boarders. " 

"  Dear  me !  dear  me ! "  said  Mrs.  Butler, 
looking  distressed. 

"Well!"  said  John,  "we've  been  to 
church  this  morning,  anyhow." 

"  I  always  want  to  go  to  meeting  twice  a 
day,  at  least,  only  we  don't  have  preaching 
in  the  afternoon  while  we  've  no  settled 
minister." 

"Land  got  the  job  this  morning,  didn't 
he?"  said  John,  looking  at  his  brother,  who 
was  endeavoring  to  restrain  his  children's 
vehement  attentions  to  their  gorgeously 
arrayed  cousin. 

"  Perhaps  the  children  had  better  go  out 
to  play,"  he  suggested,  mildly. 

"Well!"  said  Mrs.  John  Butler,  doubt- 
fully, "  only  the  last  time  they  took  Laurea 
out  to  play,  they  put  sand  and  ashes  in  her 
hair,  and  it  took  me  no  end  of  time  to  get 
it  out.  But  one  can't  hear  themselves  talk 
with  them  in  the  room.  Get  an  apron  for 
her,  Florer,  will  you?  And  if  she  could 
have  one  of  their  old  hats  — " 

Flora  produced  a  decayed  straw  hat  of  her 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  105 

own,  and  Mrs.  John  removed  her  daughter's 
bangles,  ear-rings,  and  locket,  remarking 
that  them  young  ones  would  smash  every- 
thing up. 

"  I  don't  think  they  ought  to  play  out 
doors,  Sabbath  afternoon,"  said  the  grand- 
mother, troubled.  "Can't  they  sit  down 
quietly,  like  good  little  children?" 

Whether  the  youthful  Orlando  and  Flora 
could  perform  the  feat  alluded  to,  may  be 
doubted ;  the  fact  remained  that  they  never 
had;  and  no  one  seeming  inclined  to  take 
their  instruction  in  hand,  they  were  allowed 
to  depart,  dragging  with  them  the  trans- 
formed Laurea,  half  reluctant,  half  eager  for 
the  mad  course  of  adventures  into  which  her 
cousins  were  wont  to  lead  her  on  her  "Sab- 
bath" visits;  and  Flora  placed  herself  near 
the  window,  where  she  was  supposed  to 
accomplish  the  feat,  trying  to  the  powers  of 
a  conjurer,  of  "keeping  her  eye  upon  them." 

"  I  suppose  you  went  to  meetin',"  resumed 
John,  addressing  himself  to  Arthur. 

"I  did." 

"And  how  were  you  pleased  with  the 
exercises  ? " 

"Very  well,"  replied  Arthur,  in  a  tone 
which  precluded  further  questioning. 


106          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"I  tell  Orlando,"  said  John's  wife,  "he 
ought  to  speak  up  more ;  folks  like  to  hear  a 
man  preach  as  if  he  were  after  somethin',  — 
not  but  what  I  like  all  he  says  well  enough. 
And  how  's  Ider?  I  most  forgot  to  ask." 

"A  little  better,  we  hope,"  replied 
Orlando. 

"  Can  I  go  up  and  see  her  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  she  is  hardly  able  to-day, " 
said  Flora ;  "  you  see  it  is  the  afternoon,  and 
she  gets  tired  by  afternoon." 

"Yes,  and  when  I  come  in  the  morning 
she  is  never  ready  to  see  any  one.  She'll 
never  be  any  better  while  you  keep  her  so 
shut  up;  she  ought  to  see  folks  and  be 
cheered  up  a  little.  And  how's  the  baby? 
I  can  see  him,  I  s'pose. " 

"He  is  asleep  now." 

"Well  he'd  better  be  let  alone  then,  I 
should  say.  The  last  time  I  was  here  that 
young  one  commenced  to  yell  as  soon  as  it 
woke,  and  kept  it  up  two  mortal  hours  —  as 
long  as  I  stayed.  If  I  had  him  I  'd  soon  stop 
him;  but  you  coddle  him  and  spoil  him." 

"Did  you  enjoy  the  sermon  this  morn- 
ing? "  asked  her  mother-in-law. 

"  Not  much !  Dr.  Todd  is  gettin'  old  and 
played-out,  I  guess.  We  haven't  anythin' 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  IO/ 

goin'  on  now.  If  I  was  the  deacons,  I  'd 
make  him  get  up  somethin' ;  we  'd  ought  to 
be  havin'  a  revival  before  this  time,  if  he 
means  to  stay." 

"  Come  now,  Almirer !  "  said  her  husband, 
" Dr.  Todd  is  a  pretty  good  sort  of  a  man;  I 
like  his  sermons." 

"Well,  you  needn't  talk  —  they  haven't 
converted  you  yet,"  said  Almira,  with  a 
laugh. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Butler;  "I  wish  I  could 
see  the  boys  anxious !  Perhaps,"  in  a  low  tone 
to  her  daughter-in-law;  "you  could  persuade 
John  to  have  a  little  talk  with  Orlando.  Or- 
lando, couldn't  you  say  a  few  words  to  John 
while  he  's  here?  You  might  step  out  with 
him.  I  hope  you  have  improved  your 
chances  to  drop  a  word  in  season  to  Arthur, 
besides  what  he  heard  from  the  pulpit." 

All  three  of  the  brothers  looked  for  a 
moment  extremely  uncomfortable,  but  in 
a  moment  more  Arthur  could  not  restrain  a 
smile,  and  even  the  unfortunate  Orlando 
looked  feebly  amused,  while  John  burst  into 
a  hearty  laugh.  "  No,  mother,  thank  you ; 
'tain't  fair  to  set  Land  on  to  any  of  the 
family  out  of  hours.  What 's  that?  A  new 
picture,  I  declare;  look  there,  Almirer." 


IOS          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Butler;  "  it 's  a  present 
from  a  rich  Episcopalian  lady  Arthur  knows 
in  Boston." 

"Art  is  makin'  up  to  a  rich  old  maid," 
said  Jonah,  who  had  escaped  his  mother's 
admonitions,  owing  to  his  elders  being 
present. 

"Indeed!"  said  Mrs.  John;  "I  admire  his 
taste.  Why,  Florer,  they'll  be  a  match  for 
you  and  your  old  beau.  How  's  his  court- 
ship gettin'  along? " 

"You  should  not  say  such  things,  Almira," 
said  Mrs.  Butler,  looking  the  perplexed  dis- 
tress she  often  felt  in  the  company  of  her 
daughter-in-law,  whose  vulgarity  repelled 
her  own  refined  instincts,  though  in  her 
simplicity  she  thought  it  the  usual  mani- 
festation of  the  worldliness  and  fashion 
which,  she  sometimes  feared,  showed  Almira, 
though  a  professing  Christian,  to  be  in 
danger  of  cherishing  a  false  hope.  "Dr. 
Griscom  admires  Flora,  and  thinks  her  a 
very  superior  young  lady,  but  it  is  so  long 
now  that  I  don't  think  he  has  any  idea  of 
marrying  again." 

"Trust  an  old  widower  lookin'  out  for 
number  three,  for  knowin'  better  than  that !  " 
said  Almira;  "but  I'm  afraid  he's  after 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  109 

money,  hey,  Florer?  You  better  not  let  him 
get  wind  of  your  old  lady,  Arthur,  though 
very  likely  if  she  can  get  you,  she  won't 
take  him." 

"  The  picture  seems  to  be  a  sacred  subject, " 
said  Mrs.  Butler,  eager  to  stop  this  talk; 
"  I  thought  the  lady  might  have  painted  it, 
but  Arthur  says  it 's  a  chromo. " 

"  It 's  Japanese,  ain't  it?  "  said  Mrs.  John. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Butler; 
"there  are  Latin  words  on  the  back." 

"Well,  it  looks  Japanese.  It's  a  queer 
thing,  anyhow." 

"Read  it,  Flora,"  said  Mrs.  Butler;  "you 
can  read  Latin." 

"Angels  of  the  blessed  Angelico  of  Fie- 
sole,"  read  Flora,  carelessly;  "it  is  not 
Latin,  Mrs.  Butler,  but  Italian,  I  think." 

"  Lord !  how  many  lingoes  can  you  read  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  John. 

"I  never  learned  Italian;  but  it  is  very 
like  Latin." 

"  Flora  reads  Latin  and  Greek  too,  very 
well,"  said  Mrs.  Butler;  "her  father  taught 
her.  She  reads  the  Greek  Testament  some- 
times, at  family  prayers,  and  it  sounds  most 
interesting." 

"  Please,     Mrs.     Butler  —  "    said    Flora, 


IIO          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

imploringly,  and  for  the  first  time  showing 
some  dislike  to  being  made  the  theme  of 
discussion.  Somewhat  to  Arthur's  surprise, 
she  had  not  appeared  to  mind  Mrs.  John 
Butler's  railleries  at  all,  but  had  preserved 
a  silence  too  indifferent  to  be  disdainful. 
Flora  disliked  being  in  the  same  room  with 
Almira  so  much  that  nothing  the  latter  said 
or  did  could  increase  or  diminish  the  sen- 
sation; but  this  was  a  very  different  matter. 

"Never  mind,  Florer,"  said  John,  good- 
humoredly,  "you  're  pretty  enough  not  to  be 
hurt  by  it,  anyhow.  Come,  Art,  don't  you 
want  to  stretch  your  legs  a  bit  ? " 

"We'd  ought  to  be  goin'  home,"  said 
Almira;  "I'll  hunt  up  Laurea." 

"Won't  you  stay  to  tea?"  said  Mrs.  But- 
ler, in  a  quavering  voice,  apparently  divided 
between  fears  of  an  acceptance  or  refusal. 

"That 's  what  we  come  for,"  said  John. 

"  Really,  John  —  "  expostulated  his  wife. 

"Why,  I  don't  git  out  to  mother's  any  too 
often;  you  wouldn't  have  us  go  back  with 
nothin'  but  a  call,  would  you?  We'll  be 
back  in  a  minute;"  and  he  walked  off,  fol- 
lowed by  Arthur,  while  Orlando,  who  had 
not  been  asked,  and  who  knew  that  they  had 
gone  off  to  discuss  him  and  his  affairs, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  Ill 

remained  at  home  to  help  Flora  blew  up  the 
fire  and  get  tea,  —  a  process  materially  hin- 
dered by  what  Mrs,  John  had  termed  the 
baby's  "  yells  "  from  above,  —  not  to  speak  of 
sounds  from  the  other  children  that  more 
justly  deserved  the  name.  Almira  preserved 
the  supreme  indifference  of  "  company "  as 
she  sat  with  Mrs.  Butler  in  the  parlor,  the 
elder  lady  in  vain  endeavoring,  with  occa- 
sional remarks  of  a  religious  tendency,  to 
stem  the  tide  of  the  younger 's  catalogue  of 
her  new  clothes,  broken  only  by  the  recur- 
ring observation  that  "  if  them  young  ones 
was  hers,  she  would  train  them  well." 


112          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

TOHN  and  Arthur,  meanwhile,  were  going 
**  over  the  same  circuitous  course  they 
had  traversed  on  Friday  morning;  the  only 
new  feature  was  a  promise  from  John  that 
he  would  see  Jonah  safe  out  of  Syracuse,  on 
any  road  but  that  leading  to  Liverpool,  with 
ten  dollars  in  his  pocket,  supplied  by  Arthur, 
to  seek  for  agricultural  employment ;  for,  as 
John  remarked,  the  farmers  would  take  any- 
body at  that  time  of  year,  though  "their 
keepin'  him  was  another  matter."  They 
did  not  get  so  far  in  relation  to  Orlando,  as 
one  brother  was  determined  not  to  ask  any 
aid,  and  the  other  not  to  offer  any. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  nearly  reached 
home  that  John,  with  a  sidelong,  curious 
look,  asked  abruptly,  "Do  you  think  Florer 
Shepherd  a  pretty  girl  ?  " 

"I  should  hardly  call  her  so." 

"Possible?  Well,  Almirer  \von't  allow 
she  is;  but  then,  you  know  women  don't 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  113 

set  any  by  each  other's  good  looks.  I  don't 
s'pose  you  'd  call  Ider  pretty,  either,  then?  " 

"  Do  you  think  her  so  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes !  a  good  many  folks  think  her 
prettier  than  Florer;  but  somehow  there's 
somethin'  about  Florer  —  I  don't  know  what 
it  is  —  " 

"Not  prettiness,  certainly,"  said  Arthur, 
who  had  no  wish  to  go  on  at  cross  purposes, 
"  Miss  Shepherd  is  the  most  beautiful  girl 
I  have  ever  seen." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  John,  with  a  meaning 
intonation ;  but  as  he  received  no  encourage- 
ment to  proceed,  he  went  on  to  think  to 
himself  that  if  Arthur  should  be  taken  with 
Flora,  it  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for 
Orlando  and  his  family,  and  indirectly  for 
himself  as  well,  since  the  chief  part  of  their 
support  must  then  undoubtedly  fall  upon 
Arthur;  and  that  so  desirable  a  consumma- 
tion might  be  made  more  sure,  he  resolved 
not  to  hint  at  it  to  his  wife,  whose  dislike 
to  the  young  lady  might  lead  her  to  interfere 
with  it,  —  not  that  he  blamed  Almira  so  much ; 
for  there  was  no  denying  that  "  she  's  full  of 
her  airs,"  he  finished,  half  unconsciously, 
aloud.  Arthur  looked  still  more  indiffer- 
ent, and  John  reflected  that  probably  the 
8 


114          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

airs  would  not  be  put  on  to  his  brother. 
They  reached  home  in  time  for  a  family 
tea,  at  which  Almira  questioned  Arthur,  in 
a  jocose  way,  about  Miss  Curtis,  whose 
name  she  had  obtained  from  Mrs.  Butler, 
and  Mrs.  Butler,  whose  ideas  grew  more 
secular  at  sundown,  occasionally  put  in  a 
word.  Mrs.  John  said  it  was  funny  for  an 
old  maid  to  have  so  much  money,  and  won- 
dered how  she  could  use  it.  Mrs.  Butler 
hoped  she  gave  a  great  deal  away  to  good 
objects,  —  she  supposed  the  Episcopalians 
had  missionaries  of  their  own. 

"  Lives  in  a  house,  and  keeps  a  girl,  does 
she?  Don't  she  have  anybody  else  livin' 
with  her?"  asked  Almira. 

"  Not  all  the  time.    She  often  has  friends. " 

"  I  should  think  she  'd  feel  lonely  when 
her  help  leave  her,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  who 
regarded  "  help "  as  nomads  by  race. 

"  I  never  knew  her  to  be  without  servants. " 

"Does  she  keep  more  than  one?"  asked 
Mrs.  John. 

"Yes." 

"How  many?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Arthur,  like  the 
most  unwilling  witness  he  had  ever  cross- 
questioned.  "  I  only  know  two  or  three  of 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          115 

them   by   sight;    but    of    course   there   are 
others. " 

"Goodness    gracious!     how    big    is    her 
house  ? " 

"Her  town  house  is  not  very  large." 
"Town  house!  how  many  has  she?" 
"Only  three  that  she  lives  in." 
Mrs.     John    was    fairly    silenced    for    a 
moment,  and  Arthur,  as  he  remembered  that 
he   had    been   dining  with    Miss   Curtis  on 
Wednesday,  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was 
so   little  while  ago.      He  always  felt,  when 
in  company  with  John  and  his  wife,    that 
there  must  be  a  weak  spot  in  his  own  social 
armor,   carefully  as  it  had  been  braced  and 
girded.      How   could    he    look    around    the 
table  and  picture   himself  bringing   Sophy 
there  in  the  character  of  one  of  the  family? 
Only  Flora  offered  a  suggestion  of  any  pos- 
sible point  of  contact.    The  Curtises,  surely, 
could  see  nothing  amiss   in   Mrs.    Orlando 
Butler's  sister;  and  it  was  to  be  hoped  that 
Mrs.   Orlando  might  not  be  unlike  her. 

That  evening,  when  the  John  Butlers  had 
driven  off,  and  Arthur,  on  the  back  porch, 
was  watching  through  the  budding  elm- 
branches  the  young  moon  rising  in  a  clear 
cool  sky,  the  one  vision  of  beauty  which 


I  1 6  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

had  satisfied  his  boyish  cravings,  disgusted 
with  the  cramped  surroundings  below,  a  low 
voice  at  his  elbow  said,  "Mr.  Butler." 

"  Miss  Shepherd  !  I  beg  your  pardon  !  " 
and  he  sprang  up  from  the  bench  on  which  he 
had  been  sitting,  and  offered  her  his  place, 
which  she  took  without  hesitation,  and  he  sat 
down  beside  her,  wondering  what  she  could 
want  with  him,  and  his  heart  beating  with 
expectation  of  —  he  did  not  know  what. 

"Mr.  Butler,  I  only  wanted  to  say  that 
Ida  and  I  have  a  few  things  —  I  mean  books 
and  furniture  —  that  might  be  worth  some- 
thing if  they  could  be  sold.  When  we  left 
Croydon  we  sold  some  of  our  things  there, 
but  some  Aunt  Esther  wanted  to  keep,  and 
Deacon  Wilcox  stored  them  in  his  barn; 
and  they  are  there  now.  We  meant  to  send 
for  them  after  Ida  was  married  and  we  took 
the  house  at  Cazenovia,  but  it  was  not  seen 
to,  and  we  moved  again  so  soon ;  the  silver 
we  brought  with  us,  and  it  is  here  now; 
there  is  not  much  of  it,  but  it  might  bring 
something  —  " 

"  My  dear  Miss  Shepherd !  you  must  not 
think  of  such  a  thing!" 

"  But  I  really  think  we  ought.  You  see 
it  has  cost  so  much  to  have  so  much  sick- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  \\J 

ness.  Orlando  would  never  speak  of  it 
himself,  but  I  think  it  would  be  a  relief  to 
his  mind.  Father  had  some  nice  books, 
and  Aunt  Esther  always  said  the  furniture 
was  good.  It  is  very  pretty  old  mahogany. 
I  don't  suppose  it  would  sell  for  much  in 
Croydon,  but  would  it  not  be  a  good  plan  to 
have  it  sent  down  to  Boston  ?  —  if  you  could 
only  see  about  it." 

"It  depends  on  the  condition  of  the  mar- 
ket, and  the  time  of  year,  and  so  many  other 
things,"  said  Arthur,  slowly  deliberating. 
"  I  would  not  do  anything  about  it  just  now, 
at  any  rate ; "  and  seeing  that  she  looked 
unsatisfied,  he  went  on :  "I  will  certainly 
see  about  it  when  I  think  it  is  best;  but 
you  must  not  let  any  one  else  have  anything 
to  do  with  it." 

"I  will  not,  then,"  said  Flora,  reluctantly. 

"You  could  not  find  any  one  who  would 
attend  to  it  as  well  as  I  could;  promise  me 
that  you  will  be  sure  to  consult  me  first 
about  it  in  any  case." 

Flora  looked  a  little  surprised,  but  gave 
the  promise  without  further  discussion,  and 
Arthur  felt  relieved  at  the  thought  that  he 
had  prevented  the  girl  from  stripping  her- 
self of  her  few  possessions;  but  suddenly 


Il8          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

struck  with  an  idea,  he  exclaimed,  "But 
your  sister — I  suppose  she  has  an  equal 
share  in  them  ?  " 

"  Ida  would  do  anything  that  you  thought 
—  that  I  thought  was  right." 

He  was  afraid  she  would  go  away  now, 
but  she  sat  silently  on,  the  first  time  he  had 
seen  her  sit  still;  indeed  she  rarely  had 
the  chance.  There  was  as  much  grace  in 
her  motionless  rest  as  there  was  repose  in 
her  quickest  movement.  He  racked  his 
brains  for  something  to  say  that  might  keep 
her,  but  to  his  surprise  they  gave  no  response. 
The  fact  was  that  unless  he  could  do  some- 
thing for  her,  idle  admiration  and  gallantry 
seemed  useless;  and  what  can  a  man  of 
thirty-two  do  for  a  girl  of  nineteen,  unless 
he  can  do  the  one  thing  that  is  everything? 
He  had  had  some  idea  of  beseeching  Miss 
Curtis' s  good  offices  for  her.  Perhaps  that 
lady,  who  liked  to  give  in  a  private  and 
personal  way,  and  who  was  always  pleased 
with  good  looks  in  her  protegees,  would  ask 
Flora  to  come  and  fit  herself  for  something 
or  other  in  Boston,  under  her  own  eye,  as 
she  had  asked  plenty  of  other  girls  less 
attractive;  and  Sophy,  he  thought  with 
pride,  was  much  too  high-minded  to  feel 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          119 

any  idle  jealousy  of  another  girl's  beauty. 
But  as  he  looked  at  Flora  now,  transfigured 
by  the  April  moonlight,  the  plan  seemed 
less  feasible.  He  doubted  whether  there 
were  not  too  much  of  the  desirable  quality 
in  question  here,  and  he  feared  that  it  would 
be  awkward;  that  Miss  Curtis  would  hardly 
believe  —  that  he  could  hardly  explain  just 
the  degree  and  kind  of  interest  he  felt.  No 
matter  what  he  said  beforehand,  she  would 
still  be  surprised  when  she  saw  Flora.  He 
shrank  from  putting  his  vague  thoughts  in 
words,  even  to  himself;  but  he  was  just  tell- 
ing himself  again  that  there  was  nothing  but 
pity  and  admiration  in  them,  if  he  could 
only  make  other  people  understand  him, 
when  the  baby's  faint  cry  came  from  above, 
and  Flora  was  on  her  feet,  and  half-way  up 
the  stairs  before  the  second  sound. 

Arthur  sauntered  back  to  his  lodgings, 
provoked  that  he  had  not  had  himself  driven 
into  Syracuse  that  evening  to  take  the  early 
Monday  train  for  Boston.  There  was  plenty 
of  work  that  he  could  have  done  Monday 
evening,  and  he  gained  nothing  by  staying 
but  another  desultory  morning  at  his 
mother's  house,  pervaded  by  a  discomfort 
yet  more  pronounced  than  usual,  as  befitted 


120          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

washing-day;  and  where  he  had  the  doubtful 
pleasure  of  watching  Flora  doing  the  family 
washing  in  the  back  yard.  No  exercise 
could  display  to  more  advantage  the  nymph- 
like  grace  of  her  form;  but  the  satisfaction 
it  gave  his  eye  was  perhaps  more  than  coun- 
terbalanced by  his  irritation  at  seeing  her 
scrubbing  away  on  Jonah's  greasy  shirts  and 
muddy  stockings. 

"  Her  yellow  hair  was  braided  in  a  tress, 
Behind  her  back  a  yarde  long,  I  guess  ; " 

and  as  he  gazed  from  the  window,  unseen 
himself,  half  feeling  that  he  ought  not,  and 
yet  unable  to  leave  off,  Master  Orlando, 
passing  behind  her,  caught  the  loose  curling 
end  thereof,  and  gave  it  a  sudden  hard  pull 
that  made  her  throw  back  her  head  with  a 
start  and  frown  of  pain,  and  raise  one  drip- 
ping hand  to  relieve  the  shock  by  grasping 
the  thick  heavy  plait  at  the  roots. 

"This  is  too  much!"  soliloquized  Arthur, 
who  in  a  moment  more  stood  beside  her,  and 
seized  the  little  culprit  by  the  arm.  "  You 
are  a  very  naughty  boy,"  he  said  severely; 
"and  if  your  father  does  not  punish  you 
as  he  ought  for  being  so  rude  to  your  aunt, 
I  will." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  121 

"  Landy  did  not  mean  to  be  naughty,  did 
he?"  said  Flora;  "he  did  not  know  that  it 
would  hurt  Auntie."  She  bent  down  and 
held  out  her  arms  to  the  boy,  who  ran  into 
them,  looking  round  at  his  uncle  with  the 
defiant  scowl  of  the  incipient  man  who  sees 
some  one  coming  between  him  and  his  own 
particular  piece  of  feminine  property;  but 
as  Flora  murmured  some  sweet  indistinct 
expostulations  in  his  ear,  the  scowl  relaxed 
into  as  thorough  a  smile,  and  he  pursed  up 
his  rosy  mouth  to  meet  hers,  pressing  her 
cheeks  between  the  chubby  palms  of  his 
dimpled  hands,  making  so  lovely  a  group, 
that  Arthur's  "  You  will  spoil  those  chil- 
dren, Miss  Shepherd,"  came  softened  into 
half  rallying  admiration.  But  Flora  took  it 
seriously. 

"I  hope  not,"  she  said.  "Landy  tries  to 
be  good.  Don't  you,  Landy?" 

"I  are  good,"  said  Landy,  now  passing 
his  hand  tenderly  over  the  rich  rippling 
locks,  whose  own  thickness  made  them  stand 
up  like  an  aureole  where  they  rolled  back 
from  her  face,  —  but  with  a  sparkle  of  mis- 
chief deep  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  toward 
Arthur,  which  suggested,  "If  you  say  a 
word,  I'll  do  it  again." 


122          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"You  may  come  with  me,  if  you  are 
good,"  said  Arthur,  impressively;  and  as 
Master  Landy,  though  somewhat  inclined 
to  accept  any  offer  put  in  the  form  of  a 
reward,  seemed  doubtful  as  to  how  much 
real  enjoyment  it  might  promise,  he  rashly 
added  the  bribe  of  his  pocket  note-book  with 
pencil  attached,  and  having  torn  out  the 
written  pages,  •  abandoned  the  whole  to  the 
little  boy  and  his  sister,  who  hovered  fairy- 
like  in  the  background.  Flora  was  at  liberty 
to  go  on  with  her  work;  and  as  she  bent 
over  the  washtub  again,  big  tears  splashed 
into  the  water.  What  could  make  her  so 
silly?  She  was  always  crying  since  Mr. 
Butler  came.  For  one  reason,  things  had 
gone  so  awry,  as  they  always  do  whenever 
you  are  anxious  about  them.  She  had  never 
known  the  children  behave  so  badly;  gener- 
ally they  minded  her  very  —  no,  perhaps  it 
was  more  truthful  to  say,  pretty  well.  She 
swallowed  her  tears  in  a  hurry  and  raised  a 
fairly  cheerful  countenance  to  meet  Orlando, 
who  came  out  of  the  kitchen  to  bring  her  a 
pail  of  hot  water. 

"Why,  Flora,  are  you  tired,  poor  child? 
It  is  too  bad  we  have  such  a  big  wash  this 
week;  I'll  wring  out  the  clothes,  for  it's 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS,  123 

time  to  get  dinner,  and  I  suppose  we  must 
have  dinner  if  Arthur  's  going  to  stay  for  it," 
went  on  Orlando,  who,  arrayed  in  his  morn- 
ing costume  with  apron,  a  shade  worse  than 
usual  for  Mondays,  proceeded  without  a 
thought  of  incongruity  to  put  the  tattered 
clothes  through  the  rickety  old  wringer. 
"I  wish,"  he  thought,  but  did  not  say,  "that 
Arthur  had  left  last  night.  If  he  minds 
Flora's  working  so  hard,  I  wonder  he  did 
not  think  of  to-day  being  washing-day. 
Why  did  he  stay,  I  wonder?" 

"Why,  indeed?"  thought  Arthur,  as  he 
finally  found  himself  comfortably  settled  in 
a  sleeping-car  section  on  the  Grand  Central 
Railroad  eastward  bound.  Why  indeed  had 
he  come  at  all  ?  He  had  not  accomplished 
anything  by  it,  —  nay,  had  involved  himself 
in  more  expense,  which  he  could  ill  afford. 
The  invisible  Ida,  strong  in  her  weakness, 
had  proved  too  powerful  an  adversary.  What 
gentleman  can  turn  his  invalid  sister-in-law 
out  of  her  bed  and  out  of  doors,  no  matter 
how  much  she  may  abuse  the  privileges  of 
her  position  ?  And  he  felt  the  hot  blood  rush 
to  his  face  as  he  recalled  certain  appealing 
looks  and  tones  by  which  Flora  had  shown 
that  she  felt  afraid  of  him  and  entreated  his 


124          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

forbearance.  He  had  always  felt  more  self- 
satisfaction  in  his  politeness  to  women, 
carried  to  the  very  extreme  of  old-fashioned 
courtesy  than  in  anything  else  in  his 
demeanor;  and  here  was  the  most  beautiful 
one  he  had  ever  seen,  regarding  him  as  if 
she  were  an  aged  pauper,  and  he  a  landlord 
ready  to  evict  her  and  hers  at  the  slightest 
notice.  Never  had  a  visit  to  his  family, 
always  an  uncomfortable  piece  of  duty,  been 
so  unbearable ;  and  he  resolved  that  for  the 
future  he  would  communicate  with  them  by 
letter.  It  should  be  two  years,  at  least, 
before  he  set  foot  in  Liverpool  again. 

He  felt  surprised  when  he  reached  Boston 
on  Tuesday  morning  to  find  how  short  a 
time  after  all,  he  had  been  away;  but  he 
found  enough  to  do  in  catching  up  with  the 
accumulated  work  of  the  last  four  days.  He 
had  not  a  moment  to  think,  with  the  press 
of  business,  —  prospects  of  more,  promises 
of  success  that  might  make  him  able  to  stand 
his  increased  expenses  for  his  family,  and 
yet  realize  his  own  hopes  without  what 
would  now  be  a  most  mortifying  delay.  It 
was  only  working  a  little  harder;  and  he 
bent  every  nerve,  already  strained  to  its 
apparent  utmost,  yet  throbbing  with  a  sense 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          12$ 

of  reserved  strength,  like  a  race-horse  within 
sight  of  the  goal.  Time  flew;  his  condi- 
tional engagement  to  dine  with  Miss  Curtis 
and  escort  her  and  Sophy  to  the  Apollo 
Club  concert  must  go.  Never  mind, — he 
could  meet  them  there  and  explain;  and  in 
the  interval  at  the  middle  of  the  concert  he 
was  slowly  walking  down  the  middle  aisle  of 
the  crowded  Music  Hall,  cool,  well  dressed, 
and  deliberate  as  ever.  He  knew  Miss 
Curtis  would  be  sure  to  have  managed  to 
get  into  seats  at  the  end  of  the  row,  so  that 
he  could  pause  and  talk  to  them. 

Why  did  the  well  known  scene,  the  famil- 
iar faces,  look  strange  and  dim?  He  was 
tired  with  his  journey  perhaps;  at  any  rate 
he  was  stupidly  passing  the  very  pair  he 
was  in  search  of,  when  Miss  Curtis's  voice, 
close  at  his  elbow,  recalled  him  to  himself, 
and  he  turned  sharply  round,  confused,  at  his 
unwonted  awkwardness.  Yes,  there  she  was, 
smiling  a  good-natured  welcome  as  she  held 
out  her  hand,  and  there  was  Sophy  by  her 
side,  more  shyly  extending  hers.  He  shook 
hands  with  both,  struggling  with  a  longing 
to  rush  out  of  the  hall  —  out  of  the  town  — 
out  of  the  world  if  he  could ;  for  he  knew 
now,  and  knew  it  with  a  pang  of  shame  and 


126          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

sorrow,    that    he    could   never    love  —  could 
never  marry  —  Sophy  Curtis. 

He  managed,  he  hardly  knew  how,  to  get 
through  the  polite  greeting  proper  to  the 
occasion.  He  thought  he  did  it  very  well, 
but  something  must  have  struck  them  in  his 
manner;  for  Miss  Curtis's  own  grew  more 
formal  by  a  shade,  faint,  but  perceptible, 
and  Sophy's  answers  were  low  and  short  as 
she  turned  and  returned  the  leaves  of  her 
programme.  Thank  Heaven !  the  interval 
was  over  at  last,  the  performers  collecting 
on  the  stage  again,  and  he  could  with  pro- 
priety excuse  himself,  and  hurry  somewhere 
—  anywhere  out  of  sight  —  to  the  darkest 
corner  of  the  hall  under  the  balcony,  and 
while  standing  motionless  and  silent  as  if 
wholly  absorbed  in  the  music,  try  to  realize 
how  utterly  his  life  was  changed,  and  that 
from  this  moment  he  must  walk  a  different 
way,  and  follow  another  light.  He  knew 
that  he  could  never,  as  long  as  he  lived, 
forget  that  first  dawning  look  of  doubt  and 
wonder  in  Sophy's  eyes;  and  he  knew  too 
that  by  and-by  it  would  rouse  an  unending 
remorse,  —  but  not  now,  while  a  tenor  voice 
was  singing  Reichardt's  "  Image  of  the 
Rose,"  and  his  whole  being  was  yearning  for 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  12? 

a  look  into  a  pair  of  blue  eyes,  and  the  clasp 
of  a  little  hand  that  had  hardly  touched  him 
in  passing.  Fool  that  he  had  been  !  he  had 
driven  twenty  miles  by  Flora's  side,  and  sat 
by  her  under  warranting  moonlight,  and 
feasted  his  eyes  on  her  beauty,  without 
knowing  that  he  could  not  live  without  her. 

The  concert  was  over,  and  the  audience 
rose.  Tt  was  Arthur's  privilege  always  to 
see  Miss  Curtis  to  her  carriage, — half  the 
time  to  be  taken  as  far  as  his  own  lodgings. 
He  could  not  stir;  he  saw  the  ladies,  after 
waiting  a  moment,  rise,  and  Miss  Curtis 
look  round;  saw  one  of  a  hundred  young 
fellows  of  her  acquaintance,  it  did  not  mat- 
ter who,  step  forward  in  his  stead ;  saw  her 
incline  to  hold  back  —  to  wait  —  and  Sophy, 
eagerly  determined,  and  well  he  could  guess 
why,  to  hurry  the  party  on  and  out  of  the 
hall.  Poor  Sophy!  her  dreams  that  night 
could  not  be  pleasant  ones. 


128          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A  S  for  Arthur,  he  only  got  himself  to 
*^»  sleep  sometime  in  the  morning  by 
resolving  that  he  would  take  the  Wednesday 
night  train  for  Liverpool  again ;  but  he  did 
not,  and  the  middle  of  June  found  him  still 
in  Boston.  Things  looked  very  different 
when  he  woke  to  the  work-a-day  world  from 
which  he  had  wandered  by  moonlight  with 
music  ringing  in  his  ears.  His  love  was  as 
strong  as  ever.  There  was  no  question  of 
any  struggle  between  it  and  worldly  consid- 
erations. He  took  no  merit  to  himself  for 
the  unselfishness  of  his  devotion,  because 
he  knew  he  could  not  help  himself;  nay,  he 
felt  a  good  many  honest  regrets,  vain  though 
he  knew  they  were,  for  the  good  things  he 
was  leaving  on  one  side ;  and  sharper  pangs 
for  Sophy's  sake,  not  unmixed  with  morti- 
fication that  he  had  so  suddenly  been  taken 
captive  by  mere  outward  loveliness.  Of 
course,  Flora  was  a  good  girl,  or  there  was 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.    1 29 

no  truth  in  faces;  but  neither  she  nor  any 
one  else  could  be  better  than  Sophy. 

He  delayed  the  inevitable  action  that  he 
knew  must  come,  because  he  must  have  all 
his  plans  and  prospects  as  carefully  mapped 
out  before  he  struggled  to  utter  his  passion 
at  Flora's  feet  as  when  he  had  meditated 
that  well-expressed,  dignified,  well-assured 
proposal  to  Sophy.  His  ability  to  marry 
was  much  the  same  in  both  cases.  Sophy 
would  have  had  no  great  sum  to  start  with ; 
but  her  father  would  have  given  her  a  house 
and  an  outfit,  and  her  mother,  who  had  a 
nice  little  fortune  of  her  own,  would  have 
supplied  all  gaps  left  in  the  abundant  gifts 
of  her  relations  and  friends.  He  knew  in 
what  style  such  things  had  been  done  for 
Rosamond  Curtis,  and  Sophy  could  have 
had  no  less.  Flora  would  have  none  of  this; 
but  then,  she  would  expect  nothing,  whereas 
it  would  have  cost  a  pretty  penny  to  keep 
Sophy  as  she,  or  rather  her  family,  would 
expect  her  to  be  kept. 

The  disposal  of  his  own  family  weighed 
more  on  his  mind,  though  it  was  really 
easier  in  this  case  than  in  the  other.  His 
mother,  he  now  resolved,  must  live  with 
him,  —  a  thing  he  had  always  regarded  as 
9 


130          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

impossible,  and  he  knew  that  at  the  best 
there  must  be  many  rubs  between  them; 
but  Mrs.  Butler  was  fond  of  Flora,  and 
Flora  seemed  fond  of  her,  —  that  would  be  a 
link.  He  would  pay  up  Orlando's  debts, 
and  give  him  the  use  of  the  house  in  Liver- 
pool for  a  fixed  term,  until  he  could  find  a 
parish.  He  had  an  opportunity  of  doing 
the  thing  more  cheaply  on  the  face  of  it, 
by  getting  a  clerk's  place  for  his  brother  in 
Boston,  where  his  recommendation  would 
secure  to  good  character  and  willingness 
to  work  a  salary,  small,  but  larger  than  the 
preacher's  stipend  had  yet  been;  but  he  dis- 
missed the  idea,  thinking  that  it  would 
never  do  to  have  Orlando's  family  so  near 
himself  and  his  wife:  there  would  be  no 
end  to  what  they  would  get  out  of  him 
through  her. 

Probably  he  could  not  have  waited  so 
long  if  he  had  not  felt  so  secure  of  Flora. 
He  did  not  dream  of  being  loved  by  her; 
she  seemed  to  him  too  young  and  unawak- 
ened  to  have  thought  of  such  a  thing;  but 
how  delicious  it  would  be  to  woo  her  love 
with  delights  of  soft  services  and  caressing 
courtesy!  Hers  should  be  another  sort  of 
life -when  she  was  his!  He  had  no  appre- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS          131 

hension  as  to  any  other  possible  lover.  He 
did  not  believe  there  was  a  young  man  in 
Liverpool  whom  she  would  look  at,  even  if 
she  had  the  time.  Dr.  Griscom,  indeed, 
might  be  a  rival  more  to  be  feared.  Flora 
might  be  willing —  he  could  not  blame  her 
if  she  were  —  to  marry  the  first  not  utterly 
uncongenial  wooer  who  came,  to  escape  her 
present  life  of  drudgery;  and  though  the 
doctor  was  sixty-odd  and  had  never  been 
handsome,  yet  elderly  widowers,  he  well 
knew,  have  an  advantage  in  experience 
which  frequently  carries  the  day  with  youth 
and  beauty.  But  though  Arthur  did  not 
know  Flora  well  enough  to  be  sure  of  her 
here,  he  did  know  the  doctor,  who  indeed 
had  brought  him  into  the  world,  and  whom 
he  judged  to  be  about  the  last  man  of  his 
acquaintance  to  make  the  blunder  that  such 
a  match  would  be.  He  toiled  on,  doing  the 
work  of  ten,  till  late  in  June,  when  he  felt 
he  could  leave  town  with  some  prospect  of 
being  able  to  stay  away  a  week  at  least ;  he 
ought  to  make  all  arrangements,  for  of  course 
he  did  not  want  to  go  back  again  but  once; 
and  he  had  his  eye  on  a  pretty  cottage  in 
Newton  Centre,  where  he  could  take  his  bride 
directly,  content  to  economize  a  few  years 


132          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

out  of  society,  in  which  he  felt,  did  he  make 
the  attempt  to  keep  up  with  it,  he  must  occupy 
a  very  different  place  from  what  he  had  done, 
and  still  more  from  what  he  had  hoped  to 
do;  and  he  felt  some  satisfaction,  not  in 
making  a  sacrifice  for  Flora's  sake,  but  in 
paying  the  penalty  for  his  inconstancy  to 
Sophy.  Gladly  would  he  have  made  any 
confession  or  atonement;  but  how  confess 
where  confession  were  an  insult,  and  how 
atone  where  atonement  were  a  mockery? 
He  took  what  he  thought  the  best  course  by 
silently  withdrawing  himself  from  all  inter- 
course with  her,  with  all  due  attention  to 
ceremony.  He  declined  the  Curtises'  invi- 
tations, always  giving  good  and  sufficient 
reason,  and  called  when  he  knew  they  were 
all  out.  He  soon  perceived  that  the  other 
side  had  taken  the  alarm,  by  the  gradual 
slackening  of  the  attentions  once  so  freely 
lavished;  and  when  Miss  Curtis  left  town, 
unseen  by  him  for  a  fortnight  at  least,  he 
received  a  rather  formal  invitation  from  her 
to  spend  a  week  at  her  sea-side  house  at 
Gloucester,  —  the  time  specified,  to  him, 
who  had  once  known  that  he  could  come 
and  go  there  at  his  pleasure !  It  was  with 
one  of  the  sharpest  pangs  he  ever  endured 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          133 

that  he  wrote  a  refusal  in  terms  carefully 
chosen  to  correspond.  He  knew  that  he 
was  rejecting  one  of  the  most  precious 
things  of  his  life;  and  the  worst  part  of  it 
was  the  knowledge  that  the  suffering  must 
come  hardest  on  those  to  whom  he  owed  it. 
He  did  not  know  which  had  the  most  right 
to  think  him  ungrateful ;  though  Miss  Curtis 
was  more  of  a  personal  loss  to  him,  and  he 
believed  he  should  be  to  her. 

She  was,  indeed,  quite  as  wretched  about 
the  matter  as  he  could  imagine,  being  in 
the  miserable  position  into  which  a  warm- 
hearted person  accustomed  to  interfere 
beneficently  in  her  neighbor's  affairs  is 
thrown  when  action  in  any  direction  is 
impossible  without  doing  harm.  If  things 
had  only  not  been  at  just  the  pass  they 
were!  If  Arthur's  courtship  of  Sophy  had 
been  more  incipient,  so  that  she  could  with 
affected  ignorance  boldly  ask  the  reason  for 
his  change  of  manner  on  the  score  of  her 
own  old  friendship;  or  more  declared,  so 
that  she  could  have  questioned  either  of 
them,  in  the  chance  of  a  misunderstanding, 
—  there  would  have  been  something  to  be 
done,  at  least;  but  now,  for  Sophy's  sake, 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  hold  her 


134  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

tongue,  and  see  the  girl  looking  pale  and 
anxious  without  remark;  while  a  mutual 
consciousness  made  them  drop  by  degrees 
all  mention  of  his  name.  She  made  what 
feeble  effort  was  in  her  power  by  inviting 
Arthur  as  much  as  she  decently  could,  only 
to  be  repelled  by  his  exquisitely  courteous 
notes  of  regrets  and  excuses  in  which  no 
flaw  could  be  discerned.  She  inquired  a 
little  of  others,  but  very  discreetly,  and 
with  no  satisfactory  result.  Arthur  Butler, 
she  heard,  was  working  hard,  and  looked 
worn  and  harassed.  There  might  be  some 
family  or  business  complication;  she  longed 
to  ask,  but  she  had  not  been  wont  to  sue 
for  his  confidence;  she  had  no  chance  of 
seeing  him  alone,  and  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  write,  — time,  meanwhile,  slipping 
away  like  running  water.  Before  the  first 
of  June  she  had  left  town  for  her  country 
seat  in  Vermont,  where  she  had  enlarged 
and  beautified  her  great-grandfather's  old 
farmhouse,  and  where  a  lively  party  of 
cousins  now  assembled;  but  not  Sophy,  who 
said  that  she  must  go  and  help  Rosamond 
settle  in  the  cottage  which  the  Perrys  had 
taken  at  Cohasset.  They  were  gone,  and 
Arthur  breathed  more  freely  till  the  day 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          135 

when    he    could    get    away    from    Boston 
himself. 

Midsummer  night  was  warm,  very  warm 
at  Liverpool,  where  Arthur  was  not  in  the 
least  expected,  for  he  thought  it  best  to  give 
no  warning.  The  house  was  still,  and  there 
was  an  unwonted  feeling  of  space  about  it, 
for  Jonah  was  still  away,  and  Orlando  had 
gone  to  Geneseo.  The  dead  quiet  of  the 
evening  gave  the  feeling  of  a  coming  storm, 
and  Flora,  as  she  went  on  her  late  way 
upstairs,  wondered,  with  some  dim  idea  of 
correspondence  in  the  moral  world,  whether 
something  were  not  about  to  happen.  But 
she  had  had  this  sensation,  natural  to  youth, 
a  great  many  times,  and  nothing  ever  had 
happened.  She  supposed  Mr.  Butler's  visit 
had  unsettled  her,  and  it  was  not  likely  that 
he  would  come  again.  She  set  her  lamp  on 
a  table  in  the  narrow  passage  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  careful  that  no  ray  might  hit  the 
eyes  of  any  of  the  sleepers  within  the  half- 
open  doors,  and  entering  her  sister's  darkened 
room,  sat  down  on  the  foot  of  her  narrow 
couch  by  the  baby's  crib,  and  gave  a  loose 
rein  to  the  doubtful  luxury  of  thought,  on 
topics  which  were  hardly  of  an  enlivening 


136  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

nature.  Things  were  going  on  in  the  usual 
weary  way,  Ida  not  much  better  and  the 
baby  not  much  worse.  It  might  improve 
when  cool  weather  came  again,  but  the  sum- 
mer that  must  first  be  lived  through  would 
make  a  good  half  of  its  small  existence. 
Orlando's  prospects  of  employment  were 
still  doubtful,  and  the  expenses  would  mount 
up  to  a  frightful  sum  in  spite  of  all  she 
could  do  to  keep  them  down.  On  observing 
that  no  item  of  the  weekly  account  indicated 
that  a  servant  had  been  engaged,  Arthur  had 
written  peremptory  orders  that  one  was  to 
be  immediately  hired;  but  Flora  had  as  per- 
emptorily refused  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  one,  and  as  she  was  on  the  spot  she 
carried  her  point  with  Orlando,  who  did  not 
know  how  to  take  the  initiative  in  the  mat- 
ter without  her  help.  Mr.  Butler,  she 
thought,  had  no  business  to  concern  himself 
so  much  about  her.  She  was  strong  and 
healthy,  and  had  never  complained  to  him 
nor  to  any  one  else.  If  he  had  spoken  to 
her  about  it  her  answer  would  have  been 
ready.  She  wanted  to  make  him  feel  as  he 
ought,  and  to  show  it  —  just  once. 

That   just   once   might   be  sufficient   was 
probable,  for  as  she  bent  over  the  baby  she 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          137 

murmured  in  the  softest  tone  the  word 
"  Arthur ! "  There  was  no  harm  in  using 
the  little  fellow's  name,  but  she  started 
guiltily  and  looked  with  alarm  through  the 
dimness  to  see  if  Ida  were  awake.  But  her 
sister  slept  serenely,  and  Flora,  kneeling  by 
the  little  crib,  buried  her  flushed  face  in  the 
cool,  white  pillows.  Baby  was  her  confi- 
dant, the  only  one  she  had,  and  a  safe  and 
sufficient  one.  She  rarely  went  so  far  as  to 
say  anything  to  him,  but  she  could  think 
and  dream  when  she  had  him  in  her  arms, 
or  lay  down  by  him  as  she  did  now,  with  her 
hand  ready  to  soothe  him  off  when  he  stirred. 
As  might  be  supposed,  dreams  soon  won  the 
victory  over  thoughts. 

Arthur,  meanwhile,  was  repeating  his 
journey  of  two  months  ago,  wondering  that 
he  had  gone  through  it  then  so  carelessly. 
He  did  not  go  near  his  brother  John's,  but 
set  out  as  soon  as  he  left  the  train  at  Syra- 
cuse, to  walk  the  five  miles  in  the  fresh 
dewy  morning.  It  had  rained  in  the  night, 
as  it  had  promised,  and  soft  wreathing  mists 
and  dew,  reflecting  sunrise  skies,  made  every- 
thing lovely,  even  where  the  way,  under  the 
glare  of  noon,  might  have  looked  hard  and 
bare  enough.  The  glamour,  he  knew,  was 


138  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

partly  in  his  own  eyes,  and  at  times,  through 
all  his  eagerness,  faint  misgivings  attacked 
him  lest  it  might  prove  as  fleeting  as  the 
day-dawn.  Should  he  find  Flora  as  beau- 
tiful as  memory  painted  her?  Had  any 
awkwardness,  any  vulgarity  about  her  passed 
unnoticed  in  the  blaze  of  light?  The  signs 
of  intellect  or  heart  that  had  glowed  through 
the  calm  radiance  of  her  presence  —  might 
they  not  be  partly  in  his  own  ardent  desire? 
How  much  of  a  divinity  should  he  find  his 
marble  goddess,  once  melted  into  flesh  and 
blood?  He  had  plenty  of  time  for  these 
fears  and  jealousies  of  love  while  engaging 
his  former  lodgings,  dressing,  and  then 
strolling  about  aimlessly  till  he  knew  they 
would  be  through  breakfast  at  his  mother's; 
but  when  he  could  fairly  allow  that  it  was 
late  enough,  and  walk,  this  time  with  a  beat- 
ing heart,  up  the  little  path  between  beds 
where  feeble  attempts  at  gardening  had 
resulted  in  an  abundant  crop  of  weeds,  which 
overhung  the  little-used  way  to  the  front 
door,  marking  with  muddy  smears  his  immac- 
ulate boots  and  trousers,  and  Flora  herself 
had  opened  the  door,  he  felt  ashamed  of  his 
faithlessness  to  the  very  depths  of  his  soul. 
How  much  lovelier  she  was  than  he  had 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  139 

dared  to  picture  her!  But  surely,  in  these 
two  months,  she  had  grown  more  lovely. 
With  how  refined  a  grace  she  met  him, 
blushing  a  little,  but  no  more  than  the 
suddenness  of  his  appearance  might  well 
excuse. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Shepherd?  I 
hope  you  are  all  well?" 

"  Thank  you,  we  hope  Ida  is  a  little  better ; 
but  the  baby  is  still  very  poorly." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Arthur,  who  was  think- 
ing how  maddeningly  sweet  was  her  low 
voice,  especially  with  the  mournful  fall  at  the 
close;  then,  as  he  followed  her  into  the  par- 
lor, which  had  its  usual  shut-up  air:  "You 
must  not  let  me  be  in  your  way." 

"Oh,  no;  Mrs.  Butler  will  be  very  glad  to 
see  you.  Orlando  has  gone  to  Geneseo,  but 
we  expect  him  back  to-morrow."  She  was 
hurrying  away,  when  Arthur  said,  catching 
at  something  to  detain  her:  "I  hope  you 
have  everything  you  want,  and  all  the 
advice  you  need  for  the  baby?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Flora,  "Dr.  Griscom 
is  very  kind.  He  comes  almost  every  day." 
Arthur,  looking  at  her,  felt  that  perhaps  he 
had  credited  the  doctor  with  too  much  good 
sense;  but  what  did  it  matter?  He  was  here 


140  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

now,  ready  to  bear  down  a  stronger  rival,  if 
need  be,  and  another  look  at  her  unconscious 
face  made  him  ashamed  again.  "  I  will  tell 
Mrs.  Butler  you  are  here,"  she  went  on,  as 
she  left  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Butler,  after  a 
hasty  toilet,  came  in,  nervous  and  appre- 
hensive at  her  son's  sudden  appearance,  and 
exhausted  herself  with  apologies,  mingled 
with  hints,  as  skilfully  put  as  she  knew 
how,  to  find  out  why  he  came. 

"I  wish,"  she  said,  "you  'd  stop  —  I  mean 
come  back  —  to  dinner,  Arthur ;  though,  to 
be  sure,  we  haven't  much  of  a  dinner  to  ask 
you  to;  we  did  n't  think  of  having  meat,  as 
we  didn't  expect  any  of  the  men-folks  to  be 
here.  Orlando  is  at  Geneseo ;  he  has  gone 
to  apply  for  a  place  in  the  excellent  academy 
there,  and  we  greatly  hope  he  will  succeed; 
and  Jonah— you  know  that  Jonah  is  work- 
ing on  a  farm  near  Fabius  ? " 

"Yes;  I  hope  he  will  stick  to  it." 

"  Mr.  Hewson  is  a  wealthy  farmer,  I  be- 
lieve, he  does  not  give  Jonah  much  wages, 
but  Jonah  seems  to  like  it  there  pretty 
well.  I  believe  the  family  are  very  kind  to 
him." 

Arthur,  inattentive  to  anything  except 
that  there  was  no  immediate  prospect  of 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          141 

Master  Jonah's  return,  bade  his  mother 
good-by,  and  departed,  promising  to  come 
back  to  dinner,  and  seeing  that  she  would 
rather  be  relieved  of  his  presence  in  the 
interim.  He  knew  that  it  was  vain  to  expect 
to  get  a  word  with  Flora  in  the  morning,  but 
perhaps  in  the  afternoon  it  might  be  man- 
aged. He  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep  till 
he  had  had  it  over,  and  he  felt  that  it  was 
going  to  be  a  terribly  hard  matter  to  get  it 
over.  But  once  let  him  make  the  beginning 
which  her  unconsciousness  rendered  so  diffi- 
cult, and  he  was  sure  of  success,  —  prepared 
for,  and  indeed  ready  to  enjoy  any  amount 
of  shyness  and  coyness.  She  should  not  be 
frightened,  or  hurried;  he  could  control 
himself,  and  taste  the  full  sweetness  of 
pleasures  not  too  rashly  spent. 


142  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A  RTHUR  came  back  punctually  at  the 
£\.  dinner  hour,  and  entering  this  time  by 
the  back  door,  made  his  way  past  the  empty 
kitchen  to  the  little  dining-room.  There, 
upon  the  shabby  old  lounge  where  Jonah 
used  to  loll  at  full  length,  now  reclined  on 
piles  of  pillows  the  very  different  person  of 
Mrs.  Orlando  Butler,  who  looked  up  as  he 
came  in,  and  extended  a  slender  little  hand 
in  friendly  greeting  before  her  sister  had 
time  to  introduce  him.  "  I  am  so  glad ! " 
she  said,  "  to  meet  you  at  last,  and  to  thank 
you  so  much  for  all  your  great  kindness. " 

"Don't  speak  of  it,"  said  Arthur,  sur- 
prised at  this  beginning;  "it  is  I  who  am 
fortunate  to  have  an  opportunity  of  meeting 
you  at  last ;  "  and  he  looked  with  some  intent- 
ness  at  Flora's  sister,  whom  "some  folks" 
thought  the  "prettier"  of  the  two.  As 
beautiful,  he  at  once  saw  she  never  could 
have  been,  even  before  illness  had  robbed 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          143 

her  of  her  bloom.  She  could  never  have 
had  the  same  regal  mould  of  face  and  figure, 
though  she  might  have  had  the  same  bril- 
liant coloring,  and  still  possessed  as  lovely 
a  pair  of  blue  eyes.  Perhaps  the  charm  lay 
in  the  greater  degree  of  consciousness,  with- 
out a  particle  of  vanity  or  forwardness,  which 
made  her  loveliness  appeal  more  powerfully 
to  the  beholder.  Landy  and  Flossy  hung 
over  the  back  of  their  mother's  sofa,  and 
Flora  sat  on  a  low  stool  by  her  side.  The 
baby  was  quiet  upstairs,  having  slept  more 
of  late,  and  the  group  was  a  fair  one  to 
contemplate. 

"  Say  '  How  do  you  do  ? '  to  your  uncle, 
children,"  said  the  mother. 

"  Do  you  remember  me  ?  "  asked  Arthur, 
condescendingly. 

"Oh,  yes!"  cried  Landy;  "you  took  us  to 
ride !  Will  you  take  us  to  ride  again  ? " 

"  Landy !  "  said  Ida,  reprovingly ;  then 
turning  to  Arthur,  "  Poor  little  things,  they 
so  seldom  get  a  ride.  They  have  talked  of 
that  one  ever  since." 

"I  hope  I  can,  while  I  am  here,"  said 
Arthur,  conscious  that  all  this  was  part  of 
his  role;  "and  I  have  brought  you  something 
too ;  can  you  guess  what  it  is  ? " 


144  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"  A  horse ! "  shouted  Landy,  and  then 
stopped,  struck  dumb  at  his  own  prescience, 
as  a  magnificent  steed  with  flowing  mane 
and  tail  made  its  appearance  from  a  large 
parcel;  while  Flossy  raised  her  head  from 
the  sofa  pillow,  whsre  it  had  presented  noth- 
ing but  a  mass  of  fluffy  yellow  curls,  and 
accepted  a  French  doll  which  looked  as  if  it 
were  modelled  after  her  own  self.  Both 
children,  in  their  ecstasy,  gave  vehement 
thanks  without  being  reminded  to  do  so,  to 
their  aunt's  secret  satisfaction. 

The  dinner  was  the  liveliest  meal  Arthur 
remembered  in  his  mother's  house,  owing  to 
the  little  streak  of  mercury  in  Ida's  composi- 
tion. She  suddenly  collapsed  into  weariness 
afterward,  and  must  be  taken  upstairs, 
helped,  indeed  actually  carried,  by  Arthur, 
while  Flora  followed  with  her  cushions,  and 
together  they  settled  her  comfortably.  One 
beauty  thanked  him  with  a  smile,  and  the 
other  with  a  sigh;  and  as  he  went  down- 
stairs he  allowed  it  to  be  very  natural  that 
Flora  should  want  to  help  her  sister;  he 
would  not  stint  her  in  making  presents,  so 
long  as  the  Orlando  Butlers  kept  themselves 
and  their  poverty  at  a  distance.  It  was  a  pity, 
but  how  could  it  be  helped?  Orlando  had  no 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         145 

business  to  marry  that  pretty  creature  if  he 
could  not  support  her  better.  <• 

"I  think  Mr.  Butler  is  so  very  nice!  "  Ida 
was  saying  to  Flora  upstairs,  in  a  tone  of 
some  surprise;  "he  is  not  a  bit  like  John." 

"  Who  ever  said  he  was  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  — what  made  me  think  so 
was  that  you  never  said  anything  about  him 
at  all."  She  paused  a  moment,  and  then 
went  on  decisively :  "  He  is  a  great  deal  more 
like  Orlando  than  he  is  like  John  —  don't 
you  think  so?"  she  asked,  confident,  as  in- 
valids are  apt  to  be,  of  receiving  an  answer 
where  speaking  is  such  an  effort. 

"No;  I  don't  think  he  is  like  either  of 
them." 

"  Well !  "  said  Ida,  wearily,  "  he  carried 
me  upstairs  very  like  Orlando,  at  any  rate, 
—  almost  as  nicely ! " 

All  this,  Arthur  thought,  might  be  a  very 
pretty  way  of  conducting  a  courtship  for  one 
less  in  a  hurry  than  he  was.  But  his  mind 
was  set  on  business,  and  he  managed  to  say 
to  Flora,  when  she  came  downstairs  again, 
"Can  you  spare  me  a  few  moments,  Miss 
Shepherd,  this  afternoon?  There  is  some- 
thing I  want  very  much  to  say  to  you." 

"  Oh,   yes !    I   shall   be  very   glad ! "    she 


146         BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

replied,  with  an  eagerness  in  her  manner 
that  rather  surprised  him. 

"To  you  alone,  — please  say  nothing  to 
any  one  else  about  it." 

"Of  course  not,"  she  answered  promptly, 
and  Arthur,  rather  taken  aback  at  her  readi- 
ness, thought  he  might  as  well  be  explicit 
on  every  point  and  went  on:  "I  don't  want 
the  children  about." 

"No,"  said  Flora,  decidedly:  "they  would 
understand  everything,  and  go  right  and  tell 
Ida  before  we  were  ready.  I  have  errands 
in  the  village  this  afternoon ;  will  you  come 
with  me? " 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  replied 
Arthur,  though  he  could  have  wished  to  tell 
his  love  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  gos- 
sip of  Liverpool;  and  determining  to  give 
the  meeting  a  chance  air,  he  proceeded: 
"  Let  me  know  at  what  time  you  will  be 
through  with  your  errands,  and  I  will  meet 
you." 

"As  near  four  as  I  can,"  said  Flora,  care- 
lessly; and  then  as  she  was  leaving  the 
room,  she  turned,  with  her  hand  on  the  door, 
to  say  with  her  usual  grave  earnestness  of 
manner:  "Did  you  really  come  on  for — I 
mean  partly  for  this?  You  are  very  kind." 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  147 

She  vanished,  leaving  him  perplexed  as 
to  whether  it  were  childish  simplicity  that 
could  not,  or  coquetry  that  would  not,  under- 
stand what  he  meant.  What  could  she  be 
thinking  of,  or  what  could  she  imagine  he 
was  thinking  of?  Four  o'clock  found  him 
on  a  bench  on  the  green,  commanding  a 
convenient  view  of  the  village  emporium, 
and  at  half-past,  or  nearly  so,  she  appeared 
on  her  way  there,  like  a  sculptured  goddess, 
all  ivory  and  gold.  She  wore  her  best  gown, 
of  a  cheap  soft  cream-white  material  known 
to  commerce  as  cheese-cloth,  made  by  her- 
self as  plainly  as  possible,  and  with  no 
particular  fit.  The  fit,  like  that  of  the 
draperies  of  a  Greek  statue,  was  in  the 
putting  on.  On  her  head  was  set  a  large 
hat  of  the  kind  called  palmleaf,  and  worn 
by  farm-laborers  at  work,  which  she  had 
twisted  into  shapeliness,  and  wreathed  with 
a  piece  like  her  gown.  A  great  bunch 
of  field  daisies  was  stuck  in  her  belt,  and 
she  carried  a  willow  market-basket.  Arthur, 
though  discerning  and  fastidious  as  to 
woman's  attire,  thought  hers  a  marvel  of 
effectiveness,  and  wondered  where  she  could 
have  got  it.  She  went  into  the  shop  scarcely 
glancing  his  way,  and  as  she  came  out  again, 


148          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

after  what  appeared  to  him  an  interminable 
time,  he  advanced,  and  took  her  basket,  now 
no  light  weight;  but  instead  of  retaining  it, 
he  handed  it  to  a  little  barefoot  boy,  whom 
he  astonished  by  the  gift  of  a  quarter  of  a 
dollar,  and  orders  to  take  the  basket  to  Mrs. 
Butler's.  Flora  looked  on  with  some  sur- 
prise, but  said  nothing,  and  when  at  the  first 
turn  they  came  to  Arthur  said,  "  Let  us  go 
home  this  way,  it  is  longer,"  she  followed 
him  down  a  side  street,  which  soon  became 
a  road,  and  appeared  to  branch  independently 
off  into  the  country,  though  both  knew  that 
a  circuit  could  be  made  which  would  bring 
them  home  again.  Not  a  soul  was  in  sight 
about  the  few  straggling  houses  on  the  way, 
whose  front  rooms  were  hermetically  sealed 
and  shaded ;  not  a  lounger  was  out  at  so  early 
an  hour.  No  one  met  them  but  Dr.  Gris- 
com  coming  back  from  a  call  fifteen  miles 
away,  doubled  up  half  asleep  in  his  easy 
buggy,  while  his  bay  mare,  the  best  in 
Onondaga  County,  picked  her  own  way  at 
an  even  trot,  and  looked  intelligently  at  the 
young  couple,  to  whom  her  master,  suddenly 
raising  his  hat,  bowed  with  a  knowing 
smile. 

Flora    never    seemed    to    notice    it,    but 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  149 

walked  on  like  an  obedient  child.  Some- 
how this  submission  took  the  zest  from 
love-making,  and  made  it  more  difficult  of 
beginning;  but  Arthur  was  not  going  to  lose 
an  opportunity,  and  when  the  doctor's  buggy 
had  whirled  past  with  slightly  quickened 
speed,  he  said  shortly  and  suddenly,  "Will 
you  let  me  tell  you  what  I  came  for  ? " 

There  was  something  in  his  tone,  and  still 
more  in  the  expression  of  his  face,  which 
made  Flora  start  violently  and  then  turn 
pale, — doubtful  signs;  and  he  hurried  on 
that  there  might  be  no  misapprehension  of 
his  meaning :  "  You  must  know,  you  must 
have  seen,  how  much  I  love  you." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing ! 
Pray,  pray,  say  no  more  about  it !  " 

"I  must  speak,  now  that  I  have  the 
chance.  Don't  be  frightened  —  forgive  me 
for  being  too  sudden  —  only  listen  to  me." 

"  No,  please  do  not.  It  will  only  make  it 
worse." 

"Make  what  worse?  Surely  you  do  not 
love  —  you  cannot  have  promised  yourself  to 
anybody  else  ? " 

"No,  I  have  not." 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  have  been  toe  abrupt ; 
but  it  seems  to  me  as  if  a  man  cannot  love  a 


150          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

woman  as  much  as  I  love  you,  without  her 
knowing  it." 

"I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing," 
repeated  Flora,  apologetically. 

"  I  do  love  you,  with  all  the  power  there 
is  in  me." 

"Don't  say  such  things;  you  ought  not, 
indeed  you  ought  not." 

"Why  not?  —  because  you  don't  love  me? 
I  don't  ask  it  —  yet.  Dearest,  only  be  willing 
to  let  me  love  you,  and  I  will  make  you  so 
happy  that  you  can't  help  it.  Only  say  you 
will  be  my  wife,  and  I  will  take  care  of  all 
that."  He  paused,  anxiously  looking  for 
some  sign  of  yielding,  but  there  was  no 
emotion  visible  in  the  beautiful  lines  of  her 
profile  as  she  looked  straight  before  her 
with  downcast  eyes. 

"You  don't  dislike  me  —  do  you?" 

"No." 

"  Don't  you  like  me  —  a  little  ?  " 

"You  must  not  ask  such  questions,"  said 
Flora,  suddenly  turning  round ;  "  I  have 
given  you  no  right  to  do  so.  I  could  not 
think  at  first  just  what  I  ought  to  say, 
because  I  was  so  surprised ;  but  I  cannot  be 
your  wife.  I  am  sure  of  that." 

"  But  why  not  ?  " 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          151 

"I  do  not  want  to." 

" Why  not?" 

"That  ought  to  be  enough." 

"Not  for  me;  that  will  never  do  forme. 
There  is  no  possibility  for  me  of  life  without 
you.  You  have  confessed  you  do  not  dis- 
like me;  perhaps  to-morrow  I  can  make  you 
own  to  a  little  more.  Dearest  Flora,  you 
don't  know,  you  can't  guess  how  I  will  strive 
to  make  you  happy;  you  don't  know  how 
happy  I  can  make  you.  I  can  give  you  rest 
and  care,  —  you  need  them,  —  and  books 
and  music  and  pictures,  and  every  delightful 
thing  you  can  dream  of;  I  can  take  you 
to  your  old  home ;  I  will  let  you  have 
plenty  to  give  to  your  sister.  Can't  you 
like  me  well  enough  to  let  me  do  all  this 
for  you  ? " 

"  You  are  not  fair;  you  give  me  no  choice. 
Of  what  use  would  it  be  for  me  to  say  I  don't 
like  you  ?  You  would  not  leave  off  asking 
me."  She  stopped,  a  hot  red  flush  dyeing 
her  cheeks  and  throat,  and  quivering  pain- 
fully with  her  labored  breath.  "  I  will  tell 
you  the  real  reason.  If  a  man  says  he  loves 
a  woman,  he  has  a  right  to  hear  the  truth 
from  her.  I  cannot  be  your  wife,  not  because 
I  do  not  love  you,  —  that  need  not  come 


152          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

into  the  question  at  all;  I  cannot,  because 
you  do  not  love  me." 

"Flora!" 

"You  think  you  do,  maybe." 

"  I  know  it.  There  is  nothing  I  know  so 
well.  I  loved  you  the  first  moment  I  saw 
you,  though  I  did  not  know  it  then,  — not  till 
I  went  away  from  you.  If  I  had  known  it 
I  could  not  have  gone.  Since  then  I  have 
thought  of  you,  dreamed  of  you,  seen  you 
every  minute.  I  love  you  better  than  every- 
thing else  in  the  world;  indeed,  it  seems  to 
me  sometimes  that  I  have  never  loved  any- 
thing else  at  all." 

"  You  have  always  loved  —  yourself. " 

"  That  was  before  I  had  seen  you. " 

"  If  you  never  loved  any  one  but  me, 
your  love  is  not  the  right  kind.  You  have 
worked  and  planned  and  thought,  all  for 
yourself.  I  know,  of  course,  how  much  you 
have  done  for  your  family,  but  it  was  all 
because  you  thought  it  was  proper  for  your 
own  character  and  reputation  that  it  should 
be  done;  it  was  not  for  their  sakes.  You 
don't  love  them." 

"  Is  that  wholly  my  fault  ?  " 

"Very  likely  not.  I  don't  blame  you.  I 
have  no  right  to  do  so,  and  I  know  how  hard 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          153 

a  life  you  have   lived,    and  how  much  you 
have  had  to  make  you  selfish;  but  you  are 

—  that   is   all.      Forgive  me   if  I  say  more 
than  I  ought ;  but  I  must  tell  you  the  truth, 
or  you  will  not  be  satisfied." 

"  I  am  selfish,  I  own  it ;  all  men  are,  —  but 
you  would  make  me  better. " 

"  All  men  are  not  selfish ! "  burst  out 
Flora.  "  Oh !  "  she  went  on,  now  trembling 
from  head  to  foot,  "you  can't  have  a  heart 

—  you    can't    love  —  or    you    would    love 
Orlando,   and  feel  for  him  a  little.       He  's 
the    best    man    that    ever   lived.      You   are 
hardly  fit  to  be  his  brother,  and  you   treat 
him  as  if  he  were  the  ground  beneath  your 
feet.      I  heard  all  you  said  to  him  when  you 
were  here   last;    I  did  not   want  to,   but   I 
could  not  help  it.     And  you  have  grown  up 
with  him  from  a  boy!     If   you   don't   love 
him,  you  .can't  love  anybody." 

"I  did  consider  Orlando's  conduct  worthy 
of  blame.  You  don't  understand  how  men 
look  at  these  things." 

"And  you  don't  understand  how  it  all 
happened.  If  you  had  loved  him  at  all  you 
would  have  asked  for  his  reasons  —  his 
excuses ;  you  would  have  wanted  to  hear 
them,  so  that  you  might  have  felt  it  right  to 


154          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

do  more  for  him. ''  She  passed  her  hand  over 
her  eyes,  as  if  calling  up  old  recollections ; 
then,  looking  up,  she  went  on  with  a  falter- 
ing voice:  "When  my  father  died,  we  had 
so  little  that  Aunt  Esther  said  she  and  Ida 
would  have  to  do  something.  I  was  only 
fourteen  then,  and  she  thought  I  was  too 
young  to  teach  for  another  year  at  least. 
Ida  was  seventeen,  and  very  well  fitted ;  but 
she  was  afraid  to  go  anywhere  alone,  and 
Aunt  wrote  to  one  of  her  old  friends,  and 
got  a  place  at  Cazenovia.  Ida  was  to  teach, 
and  I  was  to  study,  and  work  some  for  my 
board,  and  we  were  very  glad,  because  we 
could  all  keep  together.  Orlando  was  just 
ordained  and  settled  there,  and  he  and  Ida 
became  engaged  directly,  but  they  did  not 
mean  to  marry  till  they  had  saved  a  little; 
he  wanted  to  have  his  mother  live  with 
them,  and  she  wanted  to,  and  he  said  he 
knew  you  would  go  on  doing  something  for 
her  —  only,  he  wanted  to  do  his  share.  But 
Aunt  Esther  felt  very  ill ;  she  did  not  know 
what  the  matter  was  with  her,  but  she 
thought  if  she  could  only  hold  out  another 
year !  but  she  could  not ;  and  then  the  doc- 
tor—  Orlando  had  Dr.  Griscom  come  from 
here  —  said  it  was  a  cancer,  and  could  n't  be 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          155 

cured.  She  kept  on  a  little  longer."  Flora's 
eyes  were  now  brimming  with  tears,  which 
she  struggled  to  keep  back.  "  When  Orlando 
found  out  how  it  was,  he  and  Ida  were  mar- 
ried directly,  so  that  Auntie  might  have  a 
home  to  go  to.  She  lived  two  years  after 
that,  and  Ida  was  never  well  after  Landy 
was  born;  and  he  could  n't  help  running  into 
debt,  though  he  tried,  he  did  try,  to  keep 
out  of  it.  He  took  me  in  too,  and  never 
breathed  a  word  about  its  being  a  burden. " 

"I  should  think  that  you  had  more  than 
paid  for  everything  that  •  Orlando  has  done 
for  you." 

"We  never  asked  which  gave  the  most," 
said  Flora,  a  flash  of  violet  light  piercing 
her  eyelashes.  "  People  don't  want  to  be 
done  for  —  they  want  to  be  loved.  Yes,  I 
know  you  have  done  everything  for  your 
mother,  but  Orlando  has  loved  her.  You 
think  you  love  me  now,  but  you  don't  know 
what  it  really  is.  You  want  to  marry  me 
because  I  am  pretty,  or  you  think  so;  but 
you  don't  know  me.  If  I  lost  that  there 
would  be  nothing  else  in  me  for  you  to  care 
about.  I  am  an  ignorant  girl,  —  ignorant,  at 
least,  of  what  you  would  want  your  wife  to 
know.  I  know  nothing  about  society,  or 


156          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

what  is  going  on  in  the  world.  You  would 
find  me  stupid.  I  saw  you  looking  at  Ida  at 
dinner  to-day,  as  if  you  wondered  whether 
she  ever  looked  like  me.  She  used  to  be  a 
great  deal  prettier,  though  perhaps  you 
would  not  think  so  now;  but  Orlando  loves 
her  just  as  much  as  when  he  married  her  — 
more  —  now  that  she  is  pale  and  sickly 
and  nervous,  yes,  and  cross  sometimes;  wo- 
men have  to  be  when  they  have  had  so  much 
pain  as  she  has;  but  he  has  never  lost  his 
patience  with  her  one  single  moment.  There 
is  nothing  he  would  not  do  for  her;  he  would 
die  for  her — I  do  believe  he  would  beg  for 
her;  it  could  not  be  any  worse  than  to  bear 
the  things  you  said  to  him.  I  want  to  be 
loved  like  that!" 

"  If  I  married  you  I  should  love  like 
that ! " 

Flora  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  said, 
"  I  could  not  make  you  different.  I  am  not 
good  enough  or  wise  enough.  I  should  like 
all  those  things  you  spoke  of,  —  rest  and 
freedom  and  pretty  things;  and  I  should 
get  drawn  away  from  all  of  them  here,  and 
I  could  not  bear  it.  You  must  not  think 
that  I  speak  only  for  myself, —  I  do  it  for 
your  sake  too.  If  I  loved  you  twice  as  well 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          157 

as  I  do,  I  would  not  marry  you.  If  I  did, 
you  would  try  to  make  me  live  your  life,  and 
see  with  your  eyes  —  every  man  wants  his 
wife  to  do  that ;  you  would  try  to  make  me 
go  against  my  own  sense  of  what  was  right, 
and  we  should  both  grow  worse." 

"  You  will  drive  me  mad ! "  burst  out 
Arthur,  losing  his  composure.  "  Is  happiness 
so  common  a  thing  in  this  world  that  we 
must  both  of  us  miss  it  on  account  of  your 
over-fine  scruples  ?  They  are  foolish  — 
wrong. " 

"  There  are  better  things  than  happiness. 
We  are  often  unhappy  here,  but  I  can  bear 
it.  Before  you  came,  it  never  seemed  so 
hard.  Please  do  not  say  anything  more; 
go  away  and  don't  come  back;  you  will 
soon  get  over  caring  for  me.  Try  and  marry 
some  girl  who  will  be  fit  for  the  world  you 
live  in,  —  some  good  girl  who  owes  no  duty 
here,  and  who  will  do  you  good  instead  of 
your  doing  her  harm.  What  she  might  give 
them  or  do  for  them  would  be  kindness,  and 
not  buying  them  off,  as  it  would  be  in  me. " 

She  spoke  in  short  breathless  sentences, 
with  a  pause  after  each  one;  and  now  she 
stopped,  and  stood  a  moment,  shaking  so 
that  he  involuntarily  put  out  his  arm  to 


158  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

save  her  from  falling;  but  she  rejected  it  in 
a  way  not  to  be  mistaken,  and  walked  on 
again  more  rapidly.  Their  path  was  bring- 
ing them  back  to  the  village  square  where  a 
livelier  murmur  of  voices  and  steps  had 
begun  to  arise  as  the  sun  sloped  toward  the 
west  and  the  hour  hand  of  the  town  clock 
toward  the  nadir. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  am  going  to  give 
you  up  like  that?  "  said  Arthur,  desperately. 

"  Pray,  don't  say  any  more.  It  will  be  of  no 
use,  and  it  will  only  make  us  both  unhappy." 

They  were  crossing  the  green  now,  out  of 
hearing  of  every  one,  if  not  out  of  sight; 
but  he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak  with- 
out giving  full  vent  to  the  burning  tide  of 
passion,  love,  or  hate,  he  could  not  tell  which, 
for  this  beautiful,  provoking,  incomprehen- 
sible creature.  Was  ever  love  confessed,  or 
refused,  in  so  maddening,  so  tantalizing  a 
fashion?  He  was  silent;  but  she  looked  at 
him  with  some  fear  in  her  eyes,  and  he  did 
not  wonder,  for  he  felt  sayage  enough.  His 
ears  were  ringing,  and  his  pulse  throbbing 
with  a  mad  desire  to  seize  upon  her  —  kiss 
her,  kill  her!  Had  there  but  been  a  desert 
around  them  !  But  as  it  was,  he  only  opened 
the  rickety  gate  for  her  to  pass,  and  said  in 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  159 

his  usual  courteous,  deliberate  tones,  "  Don't 
you  think  that  you  have  been  a  little  hard 
upon  me  ?  " 

He  scorned  himself  for  saying  it;  as  if 
that  were  all  that  could  come  of  that  tempest 
within !  But  it  seemed  to  touch  her,  for  she 
turned  on  the  back  doorsteps,  and  said 
tremulously,  "  I  am  sorry  if  I  have.  Please 
forgive  me."  They  stood  alone  together 
under  the  now  darkening  back  porch,  hidden 
by  its  overhanging  creepers.  There  was  no 
bearing  it.  He  caught  her  hand;  but  she 
snatched  it  from  him  with  a  sudden  impulse 
of  strength  which  he  could  not  have  over- 
come without  using  more  force  than  the 
still  powerful  instincts  of  a  gentleman 
allowed,  and  rushed  into  the  house  arid  up 
the  stairs,  leaving  him  baffled,  angry  with 
himself  and  her,  raging  with  the  desire  to 
work  his  anger  off,  and  yet  perfectly  at  a 
loss  how. 

Go  back  and  give  her  up  ?  Never !  Stay 
and  try  his  fate  again?  Useless!  She  held 
the  key  of  the  whole  situation  in  her  hands. 
He  could  never  be  alone  with  her  a  moment 
unless  she  chose;  and  she  would  not  choose. 
He  now  remembered,  with  a  curse  on  .his 
own  folly,  the  little  talk  on  business  which 


160          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

they  had  had  together  when  he  was  here 
last,  and  which  must  have  been  in  her 
thoughts  when  she  showed  herself  so  easy 
of  access  to-day. 

The  thought  crossed  his  mind  for  a 
moment  of  asking  Orlando's  good  offices  in 
the  matter.  Orlando,  he  thought,  would 
have  sense  to  see  that  the  girl  was  uselessly 
sacrificing  herself  and  her  prospects,  and 
influence  enough  to  persuade  her  to  listen 
to  reason,  and,  Arthur  felt  with  a  quick 
responsive  throb  of  the  heart,  her  own  incli- 
nations. But  that  Orlando,  of  all  men, 
should  have  such  power  over  a  woman !  and 
one  who  was  not  in  love  with  him,  whose 
virgin  girlish  dreams  (he  did  not  allow 
vanity  to  lure  him  with  the  fancy  that  they 
could  be  any  thing  more)  were  full  of 
another's  image, — it  was  incredible! 

"It  shows,"  he  thought,  "how  these  par- 
sons can  get  round  the  women ; "  and  he 
had  never  used  to  think  that  Orlando  made 
much  of  a  figure  at  his  own  trade.  No,  he 
was  not  so  poorly  off  yet  that  he  need  stoop 
to  that.  He  did  not  doubt  of  ultimate  suc- 
cess, for  he  had  never  known  defeat.  He 
would  stay  a  few  days,  and  wait  for  some 
signs  to  guide  him  on  his  path;  and  then, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  l6l 

he  could  not  go.  His  whole  physical  nature 
craved  another  sight  of  Flora,  as  the  starv- 
ing crave  for  food. 

A  step  on  the  walk  made  him  start.  He 
had  been  oblivious  of  all  his  surroundings, 
but  he  now  recognized  the  approaching  form 
of  his  brother  Orlando,  in  a  long  linen  dus- 
ter, tall  and  gaunt,  travel-stained  and  weary; 
and  starting  in  his  turn  at  the  unexpected 
appearance  of  his  brother,  he  said,  — 

"  How  do  you  do,  Orlando  ?  " 

"That  you,  Arthur?  We  did  not  expect 
you." 

"  No,  I  had  business  this  way,  and  having 
a  day  or  two,  thought  I  would  run  out  here." 

This  explanation  seemed  to  clear  a  cloud 
from  his  brother's  face.  "Well,  we're 
glad  to  see  you ;  I  wish  things  were  better 
here." 

"Never  mind  that  now." 

Orlando  looked  relieved  again,  set  down 
his  rusty  leather  bag  on  the  bench,  and 
began  to  unbutton  his  duster. 

"Have  you  had  your  supper?"  he  asked. 
"They  must  be  through  now;  come  in  and 
have  some  with  me.  Flora  '11  get  something. 
Flora!" 

"  She  is  upstairs,  I  think.     No,  thank  you, 


1 62          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Orlando,  I  won't  trouble  you  to-night;"  and 
he  strolled  back  to  his  boarding-house,  where 
a  supper  of  peculiarly  uninviting  aspect  was 
waiting  for  him.  He  wondered,  rather  grimly, 
how  many  such  meals  he  was  doomed  to  eat 
there  before  he  succeeded  in  winning  Miss 
Flora  Shepherd's  consent  to  be  his.  He 
did  not  give  two  thoughts  to  Orlando,  who, 
indeed,  was  not  giving  two  to  him.  Poor 
Orlando  had  come  home  disappointed  as 
usual ;  but  what  he  found  there  allowed  him 
no  time  to  dwell  on  anything  else. 

Arthur  did  not  go  to  his  mother's  till  the 
afternoon  of  the  next  day,  recognizing  the 
fact  that  the  less  Flora  saw  of  him  for  a  day 
or  two,  the  better  for  his  cause.  But  there 
was  no  bearing  it  longer,  and  toward  sun- 
down he  set  forth,  telling  himself  that  he 
would  not  take  her  by  surprise,  —  he  would 
ring  the  front  doorbell,  and  give  her  fair 
warning.  It  would  be  hardly  possible,  if  he 
stayed  long  enough,  that  he  should  not  see 
her  at  least.  But  the  front  door  was  open 
wide,  though  no  one  came  or  went,  and  he 
walked  in,  and  through  the  open  door  of  the 
little  parlor  to  where  she  was  sitting  with 
the  baby  on  her  lap.  He  had  come  gently, 
but  something  there  was  in  the  hush  of  the 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  163 

place  that  made  his  tread  echo  in  his  own 
ears,  and  he  stopped  short,  before  she  had 
raised  one  hand  ever  so  slightly,  and  his 
eyes  had  followed  it  as  it  sank  slowly  down 
again  to  rest,  light  as  a  dropped  feather,  over 
the  baby.  Her  own  gaze  was  riveted  on  its 
face,  which  drew  his  too,  with  a  kind  of 
fascination,  even  when  hers  was  so  near  it. 
The  little  creature's'  eyes  were  half  open, 
but  no  glimmer  of  light  came  from  them; 
the  lines  around  its  mouth  were  settling 
sharp  and  rigid,  as  if  an  icy  wind  were 
sweeping  over  them,  and  a  little  bubble 
between  its  motionless  lips  quivered  to 
show  that  the  breath  still  went  and  came. 

"  I  am  afraid  — "  Arthur  began  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Yes,"  said  Flora,  "he  was  taken  much 
worse  last  night,  just  as  I  came  home." 

"  Has  the  doctor  seen  him  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  says  there  is  nothing  to  do ;  he 
cannot  swallow  anything.  I  have  brought 
him  down  here,  so  that  Ida  can  get  some 
sleep.  She  was  awake  all  night,  and  while 
he  is  in  the  room  she  wants  to  keep  looking 
at  him." 

"  Where  is  Orlando  ?  " 

"  He  has-  taken  the  other  children  out,  to 


1 64    BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

keep  the  house  quiet.  Mrs.  Butler  is  taking 
a  nap."  She  paused,  then  answered  his 
unspoken  question  with,  "There  is  nothing 
you  can  do  —  don't  wait. " 

"I  can  stay  with  you,  at  any  rate,"  said 
he,  sitting  down  beside  .her,  his  heart  swell- 
ing with  pity  for  the  lonely  girl,  as  it  had 
done  before  he  knew  that  any  concern  for 
self  mingled  in  his  emotion.  Surely  no 
self  should  enter  here  now!  and  yet,  as 
he  watched  her  bending  head,  he  wished 
her  his,  even  were  that  his  own  child  in 
her  arms.  Selfish  as  vain  the  wish,  he  told 
himself. 

They  sat  side  by  side  in  the  darkened 
room,  silently  waiting  while  the  little  depart- 
ing life  fluttered  at  its  open  gate —  lingered 
—  passed.  Still  they  sat  long  together  with- 
out moving,  till  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the 
cold,  blue-white  shadows  which  were  deep- 
ening on  the  baby's  face  were  reflected  on 
the  face  that  bent  above  it,  pale  too,  but 
with  a  difference.  The  pallor  of  life  and  of 
death,  of  intense  feeling  and  of  eternal  re- 
pose, as  he  looked,  seemed  to  grow  alike  and 
to  blend.  He  made  an  involuntary  motion, 
which  he  would  fain  have  recalled,  as  she  too 
now  stirred,  rose,  and  laying  her 'burden  ten- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          165 

derly  on  the  sofa,  drew  a  handkerchief  over 
its  face. 

"Will  you  mind  staying  here  a  little 
longer?"  she  asked;  "I  must  meet  Orlando 
when  he  comes,  and  tell  him.  He  will  tell 
Ida." 

Arthur  was  only  too  glad  to  be  asked ;  and 
he  stood  by  her  at  the  window,  till  his 
brother  approached  the  house,  a  child  in 
each  hand,  and  Flora,  her  eyes  now  brimming 
over,  met  him  at  the  door  without  a  word. 

"Poor  little  Flora!"  said  Orlando;  "you 
have  been  very  good  to  him  always,  dear, 
and  you  know  he  is  at  rest  now. "  He  passed 
on  into  the  room,  and  raised  the  covering 
from  his  baby's  face  a  moment,  his  own 
mouth  twitching  a  little.  "Oh,  you  were 
here  ?  "  he  asked  absently,  as  he  saw  his 
brother. 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur;  "I  am  very  glad  I 
was,  for  I  think  it  was  a  comfort  to  Miss 
Shepherd  to  have  some  one." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  am  glad  you  were ;  it  was  very 
kind  in  you.  Flora,  poor  child,  it  seemed  as 
if  she  was  bound  up  in  him.  If  anything 
could  have  kept  him  alive  she  would.  But 
it  is  all  right  for  him ;  he  is  safe  from  the 
trials  and  temptations  of  this  world." 


1 66          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  tearfully,  as  she 
now  entered  the  room  with  Flora,  "  it  is  a 
lovely  thing  that  so  many  dear  little  lambs 
are  taken  away  before  they  know  what  sin  and 
sorrow  are."  Mrs.  Butler  had  progressed 
from  the  early  Calvinistic  belief  of  the 
damnation  of  non-elect  infants  to  the  more 
cheerful  if  less  logical  position  that  all 
babies  were  sure  to  be  saved  in  some  way. 
"It  has  always  been  a  consoling  thought," 
she  went  on,  "  that  one  third  of  the  human 
race  dies  in  infancy." 

Orlando  looked  a  little  hurt  at  this,  though 
he  had  uttered  this  very  sentiment  in  a  ser- 
mon ;  but  his  mother  had  a  way  of  applying 
scraps  of  pulpit  eloquence  on  inappropriate 
occasions. 

"I  must  go  up  to  Ida,"  he  said,  stopping 
to  give  Flora  a  consolatory  kiss,  and  a  few 
whispered  words.  Arthur  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  say,  "  You  must  let  me  attend  to 
everything ;  "  and  having  made  a  few  arrange- 
ments he  hurried  off,  Mrs.  Butler  aimlessly 
following  him.  Flora,  left  alone,  could 
throw  herself  on  the  floor,  and  bury  her  face 
in  her  place  of  refuge,  the  baby's  white 
nest.  It  was  cold  and  still  there  now,  but 
that  was  better  than  to  have  it  empty,  as  it 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          167 

soon  must  be.  In  a  moment  Mrs.  Butler 
came  fussing  back,  and  the  children,  left 
outside  by  their  father,  shouted  under  the 
window;  but  she  was  ready  for  them  then. 

Arthur  had  met  Dr.  Griscom  at  the  gate, 
and  stopped  for  a  word  or  two  with  him. 
The  doctor  was  a  man  of  consequence  in 
Liverpool,  having  a  good  house  there,  a 
farm  just  out  of  the  town,  and  "  money  out 
at  interest."  He  had  a  wide  back-country 
practice,  and  was  often  called  into  consulta- 
tions in  Syracuse.  He  was  tall  and  thin, 
with  grizzled  hair,  and  a  kindly  keen-sighted 
look,  and  in  his  old  clothes  had  an  air  of 
superiority,  the  combined  result  of  early 
education  and  the  long  autocracy  which  a 
country  doctor  enjoys.  He  was  now  throw- 
ing curious  glances  at  Arthur  over  his 
spectacles,  trying,  as  was  his  wont  when 
they  met,  to  trace  some  link  between  the 
barefoot  boy  of  his  old  remembrances  and 
this  elegant  young  man,  and  oddly  strug- 
gling between  his  former  good-natured  con- 
descension and  his  present  unavoidable  de- 
ference to  one  now  wonted  to  a  wider  sphere 
than  his  own.  They  walked,  still  talking, 
back  to  the  house,  and  would  have  gone  in ; 
but  the  sight  through  the  doorway  of  the 


1 68          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

lonely  figure  by  the  couch  stayed  them,  and 
they  turned  again  to  the  gate  in  silence,  and 
ended  their  colloquy  in  subdued  tones.  But 
when  the  doctor  had  given  Arthur  one  or 
two  addresses,  and  asked  one  or  two  ques- 
tions, he  still  lingered,  and  at  last,  throwing 
a  quick  glance  at  the  closed  blinds  of  the 
windows,  said,  "  Flora  Shepherd  is  a  very 
uncommon  girl." 

"She  seems  to  be  so." 

"I  ought  to  know,  and  I  say  she  would 
appear  an  uncommonly  fine  girl  anywhere." 

"You  are  right,  I  have  no  doubt." 

"Any  man,"  went  on  the  doctor,  "any 
young  man,  who  had  the  very  slightest 
chance  of  getting  that  girl  for  a  wife,  and 
did  not  try,  with  all  his  might,  would  be 
the  greatest  fool  I  know." 

"I  agree  with  you  entirely,"  said  Arthur, 
looking  straight  at  the  doctor  before  he 
walked  off. 

"Well  —  well!"  muttered  the  old  man 
to  himself,  rather  taken  aback  by  this  sud- 
den outburst  of  candor,  "I  am  glad  —  yes," 
choking  down  a  rising  lump  in  his  throat, 
"I  am  heartily  glad  of  it!" 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          169 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A  RTHUR  worked  off  his  excited  feelings 
•**•  of  compassion,  as  men  are  prone  to 
do,  by  spending  money,  and  ordered  every- 
thing for  the  baby's  funeral  in  "real  style" 
according  to  the  undertaker,  which  meant 
everything  as  simple  and  as  expensive  as 
possible.  He  sent  out  from  Syracuse  gar- 
dens a  great  quantity  of  the  rarest  flowers, 
which  Flora  touched  with  conflicting  emo- 
tions; but  she  could  thoroughly  sympathize 
with  Ida's  gratification.  It  was  a  genuine 
comfort  to  them  both  to  think  that  the  poor 
baby,  whose  birth  had  been  unheralded  by 
gifts,  and  whose  life  had  been  spent  in  the 
cast-off  clothes  of  others,  should  have 
some  possessions  of  his  own  at  last,  if  only 
a  few  withering  rosebuds  shut  up  within  a 
coffin-lid. 

Orlando  himself  said  the  few  short  and 
simple  words  of  the  funeral  service,  very 
calmly,  and  did  not,  his  mother  thought, 


I/O          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

sufficiently  improve  the  occasion.  Ida  was 
just  able  to  come  downstairs,  pale  but 
lovely  even  in  her  unchecked  tears,  which 
flowed  feebly,  keeping  time,  as  it  were,  to 
her  languid  pulses.  She  did  not  attempt  to 
go  with  the  rest  to  the  grave,  but  when  they 
rose  to  go  she  held  out  her  hand  to  Arthur, 
saying,  "Thank  you  so  much  for  this  and 
all  your  other  kindness  " 

We  all  know  people  whose  power  of  comic 
expression  resides  more  in  voice  and  manner 
than  in  the  words;  but  Ida  and  her  sister 
had  tones  and  looks  that  gave  a  calm  inten- 
sity to  all  they  said,  no  matter  how  trivial ; 
and  surely,  nothing  ever  heightened  the 
power  of  beauty  more.  Flora  had  given  no 
direct  thanks;  but  she  consulted  Arthur  on 
all  the  arrangements  for  the  occasion  in  a 
free  and  unconscious  way,  which  pleased  him 
by  showing  her  gratitude,  if  it  maddened 
him  by  asserting  a  confidence  he  could  not 
betray;  no  avoiding  him,  no  shrinking  from 
him;  she  would  come  up  to  him  wherever 
he  might  be,  and  with  her  eyes,  running  over 
with  tears,  full  on  him,  talk  to  him  as  freely 
as  to  Orlando.  They  walked  side  by  side 
in  the  short  procession  which  entered  the 
cemetery  gate,  and  stood  side  by  side  while 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS,  Ijl 

the  tiny  grave  was  filled,  under  the  shadow 
of  a  plain  but  handsome  family  monument, 
which  some  of  Arthur's  first  gains  had  gone 
to  erect.  On  its  polished  surface,  he  now 
read  a  name  which  recalled  the  fact,  almost 
forgotten,  that  another  Arthur  Butler  had 
been  brought  here  before  in  his  babyhood, 
an  older  brother  of  his  own,  who  had  died 
before  he  was  born.  "Poor  little  man! 
your  place  was  soon  filled  up !  "  he  thought. 
"  You  had  no  one  to  love  you,  like  —  If 
you  had,  I  could  wish  I  had  been  you !  "  And 
he  looked  at  Flora,  who  was  calm  and  tearless 
now,  for  the  John  Butlers,  who  had  brought 
Laurea  "to  see  her  little  cousin  buried," 
were  there,  and  before  them  she  would  show 
no  emotion.  Almira's  sharp  looks  at  her 
were  unheeded,  and  the  doctor's  kindlier 
interest,  apparent  to  Arthur,  was  unnoticed 
by  her.  But  when  they  reached  the  house 
again  she  stopped  before  going  up  to  her 
sister,  who  had  been  left  in  charge  of  a 
Mrs.  Rand,  a  good-hearted,  loud-spoken, 
neighboring  widow,  and  held  out  her  hand. 
"Good -by,  Mr.  Butler;  I  suppose  I  shall 
not  see  you  again; "  and  then  in  her  sister's 
words  and  tone :  "  Thank  you  so  much  for  all 
your  kindness." 


1/2          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"I  shall  see  you  again  before  you  go," 
said  Orlando,  following  her.  It  seemed  a 
foregone  conclusion  in  the  minds  of  the 
whole  family  that  he  was  going  as  soon  as 
possible;  and  indeed,  what  had  he  to  wait 
for?  Flora  had  given  him  a  strong  hint 
that  it  would  be  of  no  use  to  stay. 

"  Heard  about  Jonah  ?  "  asked  John,  who 
was  loitering  about  waiting  for  his  wife, 
who  had  also  gone  upstairs  to  bid  good-by 
before  her  drive  home. 

"No,  I  don't  remember,"  said  Arthur, 
vaguely  recollecting  that  his  mother  had 
said  something  when  he  first  arrived.  "  I 
hope  he  is  doing  well." 

"So-so;  he's  got  a  place  with  Hewson,  a 
man  who  farms  it  out  Fabius  way;  but  I 
guess  he  gets  pretty  poor  pay;  and  I've 
been  wonderin'  why  he  don't  turn  up  here 
again.  Hewson's  a  Baptist,  and  a  professor, 
but  he's  a  regular  screw." 

"You  shouldn't  talk  against  church- 
members,  John,"  said  his  mother. 

"I  've  traded  with  him,"  said  John. 

"  I  am  glad,  at  any  rate,"  said  Mrs.  Butler, 
"that  Mr.  Hewson  is  a  professing  Christian. 
I  have  a  great  respect  for  the  Baptists, 
though  I  see  no  Scriptural  grounds  against 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  173 

infant  baptism, — you  were  all  christened; 
but  if  Jonah  wanted  to  be  immersed,  I 
should  not  mind  it  at  all." 

"  He  '11  be  in  deep  enough  before  he  gets 
through,"  said  John,  winking.  "There's  a 
girl  at  the  Hewsons',  though  she 's  an  old  one; 
she'll  get  him  in  if  Father  Hewson  don't." 

"I  hope  she  is  pious,"  said  Mrs.  Butler, 
wiping  her  eyes.  "  I  think  a  pious  wife 
might  do  a  good  deal  for  Jonah;  I  did  hope 
before  he  left  he  had  some  serious  thoughts ; 
he  had  several  very  bad  nights,  which  is 
often  a  sign  of  being  under  conviction;  but 
it  turned  out  that  it  was  only  the  pies; 
Flora  had  made  the  crust  very  heavy  that 
week." 

"You  mustn't  be  sayin'  anythin'  against 
Florer,  mother,"  said  John;  "it  ain't  fair  to 
tell  the  men  that  a  girl  can't  make  good  pie- 
crust—  hey,  Arthur?" 

"  I  should  never  think  of  saying  anything 
against  dear  little  Flora,"  said  Mrs.  Butler. 
"  She  is  a  good  Christian  girl  if  ever  there 
was  one,  and  I  should  be  only  too  glad  if 
dear  Jonah  would  take  a  fancy  to  her.  I 
always  hoped  he  would,  living  in  the  same 
house,  and  everything.  But  he  thinks  far 
too  much  of  outward  attractions;  he  says 


174          BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS. 

she  does  not  carry  style  enough  for  him ;  I 
wish  that  Jonah  —  " 

"  Oh,  damn  Jonah  !  "  interrupted  Arthur, 
but  without  the  least  hint  of  irritation  in 
his  utterance,  slow  and  polished  as  ever,  so 
that  his  mother  at  first  doubted  whether  she 
heard  aright,  and  then  remained  speechless 
with  horror,  while  John,  on  the  contrary, 
"snatched  a  fearful  joy"  mingled  with  a 
sudden  reinforcement  of  respect  for  his 
brother.  Mrs.  Butler  had  always  thought 
her  second  son's  salvation  problematical,  and 
from  chat  time  she  regarded  his  perdition  as 
almost  inevitable.  She  took  herself  out  of 
the  room,  with  a  frightened  expression,  as 
soon  as  the  John  Butlers  had  driven  off, 
leaving  Orlando  alone  with  him,  as  if  for 
purposes  of  exorcism.  But  Orlando  could 
only  begin  mildly  with:  "Thank  you, 
Arthur;  you  have  been  very  good.  I  am 
sorry  to  have  caused  you  all  this  additional 
expense." 

"That  was  a  gift  —  don't  mention  it.  I 
was  very  glad  to  be  able  to  do  it." 

"  I  hoped  I  should  not  be  a  burden  on  you 
much  longer,  but  the  position  in  the 
Geneseo  Academy,  for  which  I  have  been 
applying,  has  been  given  to  somebody  else. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  175 

There  are  always  so  many  after  such  a 
place." 

Orlando  in  his  best  funereal  array  looked 
threadbare  enough,  more  like  the  "usher" 
dear  to  fiction,  than  one  likely  to  find  favor 
in  a  "growing  academy."  But  Arthur,  as 
he  turned  to  go,  answered  absently,  "  Never 
mind;  there  will  be  other  things  probably." 

"  If  you  should  come  across  anything 
within  my  powers  —  some  secretaryship,  or 
some  such  thing;  I  can  write  fast  and 
legibly  —  " 

"  I  cannot  say  I  know  of  nothing  at 
present,"  said  Arthur,  who  particularly  dis- 
liked holding  out  expectations  to  his  family; 
they  were  ready  enough,  he  thought,  to  form 
them  without  encouragement.  "  Good-by, 
Orlando.  I  am  sorry  to  hurry,  but  I  shall 
miss  my  train." 

Orlando  looked  wistfully  after  him,  wishing 
he  had  spoken  a  little  sooner,  when  Arthur  had 
a  little  more  time,  and  when  he  might  have  had 
a  better  chance  of  explaining  his  wishes  and 
capabilities;  and  feeling,  too,  that  he  ought 
to  have  expressed  more  gratitude ;  but  some- 
how his  brother  was  a  hard  person  to  thank. 

Arthur  went  back.  The  city,  divested  of 
pleasures,  was  full  of  work  as  ever,  — fuller; 


1/6          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

and  he  pushed  on  unsparingly.  He  could 
not  bear  stopping  to  think.  He  was  toiling 
on  for  Flora's  sake,  but  she  seemed  so  far 
away  that  no  effort  could  bring  her  nearer 
day  by  day.  She  must  consent;  but  he 
could  never  fancy  her  doing  it.  When  he 
did  see  her,  in  sleeping  or  waking  dreams, 
it  was  always  bending  over  the  dead  baby  in 
her  arms,  and  the  shadow  of  death  stealing 
over  her,  and  then  he  would  awake  with  an 
icy  shiver  at  his  heart;  what  if  she  should 
die  before  he  saw  her  again  ?  He  never  put 
so  much  labor  into  his  most  difficult  case  as 
he  now  spent  in  trying  to  find  some  situa- 
tion for  Orlando.  The  one  he  had  been 
offered  was  now  filled,  and  it  was  likely  to 
be  some  time  before  he  could  lay  any  one 
else  who  had  an  easy  berth  for  a  retired 
indigent  minister  at  his  disposal  under 
sufficient  obligations  to  obtain  the  filling  of 
it.  But  he  was  sure  of  one  in  time.  Orlando 
must  come  to  Boston  and  bring  his  whole 
family  with  him,  including  Flora  of  course; 
and  when  he  had  her  where  he  could  see  her 
daily,  no  one  else  should  have  the  very 
smallest  chance,  —  he  was  sure  of  that ;  and 
that  granted,  time  must  work  on  his  side. 
How  long  would  it  be  before  she  could  for- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         1/7 

get  that  she  had  refused  to  be  "  bought  off " 
by  him,  when  every  fresh  kindness  he  did 
for  his  family  would  remind  her  of  it  ?  It 
must  be  long;  for  himself  he  doubted  if  he 
could  ever  forget  it;  but  he  thought  he  had 
enough  magnanimity  never  to  reproach  her 
with  it  after  she  had  changed  her  opinion. 

In  the  second  week  in  September,  after  a 
day  largely  spent  in  inquiries  on  his  brother's 
behalf,  crowded  in  upon  a  hundred  other 
matters,  the  sight  of  a  little  note  in  a  well- 
remembered  handwriting,  gave  him  a  sense 
of  pre-existence.  It  only  said:  — 

900  Marlborough  Street,  BOSTON, 

September  14,  188-. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  BUTLER,  —  I  am  sorry  that  I  have 
not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  more  of  you  this 
summer ;  but  we  are  both  of  us  such  busy  people 
that  it  seemed  impossible  to  arrange  it.  I  have 
come  to  town  earlier  than  usual  for  a  few  days,  be- 
cause I  have  rather  suddenly  made  up  my  mind  to 
go  abroad  this  fall.  My  cousin  Sophy  accompanies 
me,  and  we  stay  a  year,  or  perhaps  eighteen  months. 
I  hope  I  may  have  an  opportunity  to  wish  you  good- 
by;  can  you  not  come  and  dine  with  me  to-mor- 
row, or  any  day  this  week?  —  quite  by  ourselves, 
at  seven  o'clock. 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

RACHEL  TOWNSEND  CURTIS. 


178          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Arthur  thought  over  all  his  talks  with 
Miss  Curtis,  in  which  they  had  planned  a 
foreign  tour.  He  had  never  gone,  and  she 
often  had,  until,  as  she  declared,  she  was 
weary  of  travelling,  and  would  not  go  again, 
unless  she  had  the  excitement  of  taking  a 
fresh  observer  with  her.  If  he  could  man- 
age to  run  over  for  a  few  months,  she  really 
did  not  know  but  she  might  go  too,  and  take 
some  of  the  girls.  Frances  had  never  been 
yet ;  and  then  Sophy  was  asked  if  she  would 
not  like  to  go  again,  and  had  blushed  as  she 
replied  that  she  would  like  to  very  much, 
with  a  pleasant  party.  But  latterly  the  sub- 
ject had  been  dropped,  —  Miss  Curtis  and 
Arthur  tacitly  agreeing  that  it  would  not  do 
to  bring  it  up  till  Sophy  and  he  were  openly 
engaged.  It  was  painful  to  recall  all  this 
alone,  and  it  would  be  more  painful  still  to 
recall  it  together,  but  it  was  a  pain  that 
could  not  be  shirked,  and  he  wrote  on  the 
spot,  and  accepted  for  the  morrow. 

That  little  party  of  three  —  how  like  old 
times,  and  yet  how  unlike,  it  seemed  to 
them  all !  They  talked  on  the  old  subjects, 
after  their  first  meeting  had  been  as  skilfully 
got  through  as  was  in  the  power  of  high 
breeding  to  accomplish;  but  still  their  talk 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          179 

would  languish,  and  their  attention  flag. 
Miss  Curtis,  in  spite  of  herself,  had  hoped 
something  from  the  occasion.  Meeting  again 
after  an  interval  does  sometimes  clear  up 
misunderstandings.  She  had  debated  whether 
to  ask  a  fourth  or  not;  it  might  be  more 
awkward  to  have  one,  and  it  might  be  less. 
She  had  vacillated  —  asked  one  man  who 
could  not  come;  had  been  glad  of  it,  and 
now  felt  regretful,  and  wished  some  one 
would  drop  in;  but  no  one  did.  All  these 
perplexities  assailed  her,  while  her  tongue 
glibly  reeled  off  small  talk,  — going  straight 
to  Scotland  —  not  too  late  —  just  the  right 
time  —  stay  with  the  Rantouls  —  they  have 
taken  the  house  on  Oronsay  —  yachting  in  the 
Western  Islands  —  Staffa  —  lona —  always 
wanted  to  see  them  —  Culdees  —  crosses  — 
cromlechs  —  Collins'  Ode.  She  was  won- 
dering, meanwhile,  if  the  others  were 
racking  their  brains  as  she  was,  while  the 
clock  musically  mocked  her  distress  as  every 
quarter  came  round. 

At  nine  o'clock  there  came  a  welcome 
break,  as  the  butler  brought  in  a  note  with, 
"The  man  wishes  to  know  if  there  is  any 
answer,  ma'am?" 

Miss  Curtis  read  the  note  once;  she  read 


l80          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

it  twice;  she  read  it  thrice.  It  was  from 
her  next  neighbor  but  one,  who  was  also 
passing  through  town  for  a  few  days,  on  a 
very  trivial  matter,  and  the  simplest  verbal 
message  would  have  sufficed  for  an  answer; 
but  in  the  time  which  it  gave  her  for  thought, 
she  formed  a  plan  for  one  last  effort.  Per- 
haps a  few  minutes'  tete-a-tete  might  even 
now  explain  the  whole;  and  while  she  read 
the  note  the  fourth  time  she  made  up  her 
mind,  with  some  shame  at  her  plotting, 
which  she  set  aside  as  her  own  sacrifice,  that 
no  one  else  need  ever  know. 

"Tell  the  man,  please,  to  say  to  Mrs. 
Montgomery  that  I  will  come  in  in  a 
moment.  Excuse  my  leaving  you,"  to  the 
young  people;  "but  I  find  I  must  see  Mrs. 
Montgomery  about  this;  I  shall  not  be  long 
—  not  more  than  half-an-hour;  and  you,"  to 
Arthur,  "will  wait  till  I  come  back.  It  is 
early  yet." 

"  Cannot  I  see  Mrs.  Montgomery  for  you, 
and  save  you  the  trouble?"  said  Arthur, 
with  unpromising  readiness. 

"  Oh  no,  that  would  be  impossible  —  no, 
no,  don't  disturb  yourself  —  don't  get  up;" 
and  she  hurried  out  of  the  room  as  quickly 
as  she  could,  unheeding  Sophy's  look  of 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  l8l 

pleading  expostulation,  strong  as  the  girl 
dared  to  make  it,  and  thought  she  had  done 
it,  on  the  whole,  very  naturally. 

In  the  half-hour  which  followed,  Arthur 
Butler  expiated  some  of  his  sins,  and  rec- 
ognizing the  fact,  made  no  complaint  of 
Fortune  or  of  his  old  friend.  He  felt  that 
he  deserved  that  the  punishment  should  be 
even  worse  than  it  was ;  that  it  was  not  was 
due  to  Sophy,  who  gallantly  sustained  the 
credit  of  her  sex.  The  longer  the  time  grew, 
(and  Miss  Curtis,  now  that  she  was  "  in  for  it, "  - 
made  it  long),  the  more  unflagging  was  her 
flow  of  talk,  skimming  the  surface  like  a 
smooth  pebble,  without  ever  once  ruffling 
the  depths.  They  talked  gossip  and  guide- 
books, though  the  one  topic  was  stupid  and 
the  other  loathsome.  What  did  Sophy  care 
for  the  old  world,  so  often  traversed  by  her, 
and  in  which  she  was  now  to  look  for  some 
new  distraction  in  untrodden  ways?  What 
did  Arthur  care  for  anything  in  nature  or  in 
art  that  he  had  once  longed  for?  Only  to 
know  if  a  girl  in  a  little  town  which  he 
knew  through  and  through,  and  on  which  he 
had  so  often  gladly  turned  his  back,  was 
thinking  of  him  ever  —  then  —  just  then. 
As  they  both  began  to  feel  that  they  could 


1 82          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

not  stand  it  much  longer,  Miss  Curtis  came 
back,  and  Arthur  rose. 

"I  think  I  must  go  now,  Miss  Curtis," 
he  said,  sadly  and  quietly.  "  I  have  some 
work  on  hand  for  the  evening,  and  I  ought 
not  to  keep  you  up  late;  you  must  have  a 
great  deal  to  see  to,  —  cannot  I  help  you  in 
any  way  ? " 

"No,  thank  you.  Really  there  is  nothing 
to  be  done.  I  have  lent  this  house  to  Mrs. 
Tom  Wilson  and  her  daughter;  they  will 
come  in  a  fortnight  or  so." 

"  Good-night,  then ;  I  wish  you  a  pleasant 
journey  and  safe  return.  Good-by,  Miss 
Sophy,"  taking  a  hand  of  each  in  his;  then 
in  a  still  lower  tone:  "Thank  you  for  all 
your  great  kindness  to  me;  good-by!" 

He  knew  that  he  had  turned  a  page  in  his 
life  at  which  there  was  no  looking  back,  and 
seeing  himself,  as  he  had  long  been  in  the 
habit  of  doing,  through  Miss  Curtis's  eyes, 
he  thought  he  cut  but  a  mean  figure  there. 
Had  it  only  been  she  with  whom  he  was 
alone,  he  perhaps  could  have  told  her  every- 
thing, and  she,  perhaps,  might  have  forgiven ; 
but  it  was  too  late  for  that. 

"  If  Flora  knew  all  this ! "  he  thought, 
"she  would  certainly  never  have  me;  nay, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  183 

she  would  probably  insist  on  my  proposing 
to  Sophy  at  once;"  and  he  could  hear  her 
doing  so,  in  the  simple  way  in  which  young 
girls  will  tell  a  man  to  do  the  impos- 
sible. He  had  a  desperate  feeling  that  he 
should  like  her  to  know,  —  that  he  wanted 
to  win  her  with  every  disadvantage  against 
him  known  to  the  bottom,  and  not  a  secret 
to  fear  the  look  in  her  eyes.  He  had 
always  known  that  if  Sophy  were  his  wife 
there  must  be  a  great  region  of  his  life 
which  she  could  never  enter;  and  it  had  not 
troubled  him.  But  with  Flora  the  idea  was 
unbearable.  This  secret,  nevertheless,  he 
must  keep  for  Sophy's  sake;  and  after  all, 
Flora  would  have  a  husband  in  whose  past 
there  was  much  less  worthy  of  blame  than 
in  that  of  most  of  the  men  he  knew.  Indeed, 
in  the  light  of  sober  reason,  he  did  not  see 
that  he  was  to  blame  at  all ;  but  Conscience, 
as  is  sometimes  her  wont,  would  not  listen 
to  reason. 


1 84          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER   X. 

FROM  ARTHUR  BUTLER  TO  ORLANDO 
BUTLER. 

Ames  Building,  BOSTON,  MASS., 
Sept.  20,  188-. 

DEAR  ORLANDO,  — Mr.  Marcus  Spear, 
the  President  of  the  Colonial- Historical  So- 
ciety, has  at  his  disposal  the  place  of  Assistant 
Secretary,  and  as  he  is  under  obligations  of  a 
business  nature  to  me,  I  was  able  to  obtain  the 
offer  of  it  for  you.  The  duties  are,  I  think,  within 
your  powers,  —  hours  from  nine  to  five,  and  salary 
$800  a  year.  This  will  not  be  a  very  large  sum 
on  which  to  support  your  family  near  Boston,  but 
you  can  have  a  room  at  my  lodgings  for  the 
present,  and  they  can  remain  in  Liverpool  with 
mother.  I  do  not  think  it  best  that  she  should 
remove  here  till  I  can  get  the  house  there  off  my 
hands ;  but  when  I  can,  without  too  much  loss,  sell 
or  lease  it,  you  can  take  one  in  the  suburbs  here 
somewhere,  and  I  will  pay  you  for  her  board  at  a 
fair  rate,  and  make  her  an  allowance  for  her  per- 
sonal expenses,  if  you  can  undertake  to  make  her 
comfortable.  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  be  willing 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.     1 8$ 

to  consent  to  this  plan.  I  will  settle  your  debts  at 
Pompey  and  set  you  free  with  the  world  again,  and 
you  certainly  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  so.  I  enclose 
a  check  for  your  travelling  expenses ;  please  get 
yourself  a  respectable  suit  of  clothes,  and  come  at 
once.  Give  my  love  to  mother,  and  remember  me 
to  your  wife  and  Miss  Shepherd.  Let  me  hear  from 
you  by  return  post,  and  believe  me 
Very  sincerely  yours, 

ARTHUR  BUTLER. 

FROM   ORLANDO   BUTLER  TO   ARTHUR 
BUTLER. 

LIVERPOOL,  N.  Y., 
Sept  22, 188-. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER,  —  Your  most  kind  letter  of 
the  2oth  is  just  received,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  what 
a  relief  it  gives  to  my  mind.  I  hope  some  day  I 
may  be  able  to  defray  part  of  the  pecuniary  obliga- 
tion, but  that  of  your  kindness  I  shall  never  be  able 
to.  I  accept  the  offer  of  the  situation  with  grati- 
tude. Mother  will  have  no  objection  to  leave  Liv- 
erpool, and  will  enjoy  being  located  near  you.  She 
only  wishes  to  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  some 
Evangelical  church  where  Scriptural  truths  are 
really  professed  and  taught. 

Ida  joins  with  me  in  fervent  thanks,  and  seems  to 
enjoy  the  idea  of  removing  eastward,  though  of 
course  it  will  be  very  different  there  from  her  own 


1 86  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

old  home.  But  I  doubt  not  the  change  will  be 
beneficial  to  her.  Flora,  much  to  my  surprise,  does 
not  seem  to  take  to  the  project,  and  even  said  some- 
thing about  staying  in  this  neighborhood,  and  get- 
ting a  teacher's  place.  Of  course,  Ida  would  not 
hear  of  that,  nor  I  either,  for  we  could  not  spare 
her ;  and  I  think  she  must  see  that,  and  will  not 
object  to  give  up  her  own  wishes,  and  accompany 
us.  I  don't  know  what  her  reasons  are,  but  I  hope 
she  has  had  no  thoughts  of  Jonah,  as  mother  has 
sometimes  been  inclined  to  suspect.  Though  Jonah 
is  my  brother,  and  I  wish  him  a  good  wife,  yet  I 
must  say  I  cannot  think  him  worthy  of  Flora,  whom 
I  have  always  regarded  as  the  very  best  girl  in  the 
world,  next  to  my  own  wife.  John  seems  to  think 
he  is  paying  attentions  to  another  young  lady ;  so 
it  will  be  much  the  best  plan  for  her  to  accompany 
us.  If  Ida  and  the  children  are  well,  I  hope  she 
can  get  time  to  attend  some  good  school  for  a  term 
or  two.  Her  father  taught  her  very  carefully  while 
he  lived,  and  I  always  felt  that  she  ought  to  have 
more  advantages  in  that  way. 

I  cannot  be  in  Boston  on  Monday  morning  with- 
out travelling  on  the  Sabbath,  which  I  have  never 
done ;  and  I  hope  you  will  not  mind  if  I  feel  that 
I  cannot  conscientiously  break  my  rule  for  any 
emergency  if  I  look  to  being  prospered  in  my  new 
position.  I  will  leave  in  the  Monday  morning  train 
and  be  in  Boston  that  evening.  Mother  and  Ida 
both  send  love,  and  we  all  pray  that  the  Lord  will 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  iS/ 

reward  you  with  all  spiritual  blessing  through  Christ 
Jesus. 

Ever  gratefully  your  brother, 

ORLANDO  BUTLER. 

Monday  evening  came,  but  Orlando  had 
not  appeared  in  Beacon  Street.  Tuesday 
morning  —  still  he  did  not  come ;  and  Arthur, 
after  waiting  for  him  for  some  time  sat  down 
to  write  a  note  to  leave  for  him  in  no  very 
good  humor.  "  I  might  have  known  it !  "  he 
thought.  "Catch  Orlando  being  in  time, 
even  when  his  living  depends  on  it !  He  will 
find  unpunctuality  tell  more  against  him 
than  Sunday  travelling  there,  I  fancy."  He 
went  on  to  save  time  by  writing  a  note  of 
apology  to  Mr.  Spear  for  his  brother's  non- 
appearance,  in  case  the  appointed  hour  came 
without  him.  It  was  pouring  a  heavy 
autumn  rain  outside,  in  consequence  of 
which,  perhaps,  the  boy  was  late  with  the 
newspaper,  the  want  of  which  still  further 
irritated  him.  It  came  as  he  finished  his 
last  note,  and  as  it  was  brought  in,  he  saw 
from  the  window  the  urchin  who  had  brought 
it  pattering  across  the  street  without  any 
umbrella,  like  a  vision  of  his  own  boyhood. 
It  haunted  him  as  he  threw  himself  back 
in  his  comfortable  study  chair,  and  unfolded 


I  88          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

the  damp  sheet.     On  the  first  page  blazed 
in  the  largest  of  type :  — 

DEATH    ON    THE    RAIL! 

FRIGHTFUL   ACCIDENT! 

LOSS    OF   LIFE  ! 

TELESCOPING  OF  TWO  TRAINS  ON  THE   NEW 
YORK   CENTRAL  AT   LITTLE   FALLS. 

THROUGH   CAR    FOR    BOSTON    BURNED. 

TWO   CLERGYMEN   AND   A   NOTED   ACTOR 
AMONG  THE   LOST. 

His  eye  ran  along  these  lines  without 
taking  in  the  closely  printed  text  with  which 
they  were  interspersed,  —  there  was  no  more 
needed;  and  when  he  came  to  the  second 
name  in  the  list  of  killed,  — 

BUTLER,  REV.  ORLANDO,  of  Liverpool, 

it  seemed  as  if  he  had  known  years  ago  that 
this  must  happen,  —  as  if  his  own  folly  must 
have  been  in  some  way  to  blame  that  he  had 
not  somehow  warned  —  prevented;  while, 
side  by  side  with  the  old  unreasoning  pro- 
test against  destiny  in  the  past,  the  other 
half  of  his  nature  was  as  ready  as  ever  to 
fight  it  in  the  future.  Two  days'  work  must 
be  crowded  into  one  before  he  took  the  night 
train  which  would  rush  over  the  field  of 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          189 

death ;  and  it  was  all  done,  without  a  detail 
being  overlooked  or  forgotten. 

On  Wednesday  afternoon  John  Butler  was 
making  a  short  visit  of  inspection  to  his 
China  Parlors,  hearing  the  reports  of  his 
subordinates,  and  issuing  his  orders,  with  a 
comprehensive  decision  as  like  his  brother's 
as  his  more  limited  sphere  would  allow.  He 
started  as  his  office  door  opened,  though  the 
visitor  was  expected. 

"  My  stars,  Arthur !  you  do  look  done  up, 
and  no  mistake.  Sit  down,  won't  you?" 
But  Arthur  remained  standing.  "  I  should  n't 
think  you  'd  had  any  sleep  for  a  week !  "  and 
then,  apologetically :  "  I  thought  there  wa'n't 
no  need  of  my  goin'  s'  long  as  you  were 
there,  you  know.  " 

A  shake  of  the  head  was  the  only  reply. 

"You  got  him  here,  I  s'pose?  "  said  John, 
lowering  his  voice. 

Arthur  silently  assented. 

"Much  disfigured,  was  he,  poor  fellow?" 
and  as  Arthur  grew,  if  possible,  a  shade 
whiter:  ''You  don't  say  so!  Well  —  poor 
Land  was  fit  to  go  that  way  if  it  came  to  that, 
fitter  than  either  you  or  I,  the  Lord  knows ! " 

Arthur  poured  out  a  glass  of  water  with  a 
shaking  hand,  and  slowly  swallowed  it. 


1 9O    BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"  Coin'  to  Liverpool  this  afternoon  ?  Want 
me  to  come  with  you  ?  "  went  on  John,  whose 
voice  sounded  like  the  buzzing  of  some  far. 
away  indistinct  gnat  in  his  brother's  ears 

"  No  —  thank  you.  I  would  rather  go 
alone. " 

"  Well,  I  was  there  better  part  of  yester- 
day, to  be  sure;  and  't ain't  very  convenient 
to  go  there  every  day.  You  tell  'em  I  '11  be 
out  early  to-morrow;  you  '11  hardly  have  the 
funeral  till  the  day  after?  " 

"Did  you  tell  them  about  it?" 

"No  —  no  —  I  couldn't  quite  get  myself 
up  to  that  point.  Almirer  said  she  would; 
but  I  thought  Ider  and  Florer  would  n't  like 
that;  they  never  hitched  their  horses  with 
her;  so  I  went  and  got  Dr.  Griscom;  he's 
accustomed  to  that  sort  of  thing.  He  told 
Florer,  I  s'pose,  and  then  they  told  the 
rest ; "  then,  with  another  sudden  lowering 
of  his  voice  as  he  realized  afresh  that  his 
tones  did  not  befit  the  occasion :  "  I  am  sorry 
enough  for  Ider,  poor  thing.  I  don't  see 
what  in  the  land  she  's  to  do. " 

"  I  shall  take  care  of  that " 

"  O — h — h !  "  said  John,  who  had  meant 
his  remark  to  be  the  preface  to  an  offer  to 
do  something,  and  who  felt  that  in  his 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  191 

impulse  of  real  pity  and  regret  for  his 
brother,  and  out  of  Almira's  presence,  he 
might  have  gone  farther  than  strict  prudence 
would  dictate.  Still,  he  could  hardly  do 
nothing,  and  he  went  on :  "I  've  told  Almirer 
to  get  them  their  mournin'  suits,  Florer  and 
all  of  'em,  and  I  '11  pay  the  bill.  She  '11  bring 
out  the  things  to-morrow,  to  try  'em  on. 
Then  you  really  don't  want  me  to-day?" 

Arthur  was  only  too  glad  to  get  away 
alone  for  the  remainder  of  his  weary  jour- 
ney; alone,  but  for  that  terrible  companion, 
shut  out  forever  from  human  sight,  whose 
presence,  though  unseen,  struck  awe  and 
silence  into  the  busy  crowd  along  the  way, 
of  which  every  mile  grew  harder  as  they 
drew  nearer  home.  Arthur  had  long  given 
up  speaking,  or  even  thinking,  of  Liverpool 
as  home;  his  home  was  in  the  future,  a 
future  uncolored  by  tender  reflections  of  the 
past,  which  only  lived  for  him  in  claims  of 
duty  that  he  paid,  as  he  thought,  to  the  utter- 
most farthing.  But  what  few  affectionate 
remembrances  of  his  boyhood  he  still  dwelt 
on  with  pleasure  were  connected  with  his 
brother  Orlando,  his  nearest  in  age;  and  his 
sleepless  hours  on  the  road  had  been  haunted 
by  pictures,  almost  forgotten  till  then,  of 


192  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Orlando  and  himself  getting  together,  after 
having  been  bullied  and  hectored  by  John, 
with  the  whispered  resentment  which  is  all 
that  juniors  in  such  a  plight  dare  as  a  rule 
venture  upon;  indeed,  poor  little  Orlando, 
but  for  the  promptings  of  his  own  more  dar- 
ing spirit,  would  hardly  have  ventured  upon 
that.  Memory,  too,  was  true  in  painting 
himself  as  domineering  and  overbearing;  for 
though  Mrs.  Butler  had  been  wont  to  assert 
with  satisfaction  that  "  Arthur  and  Orlando 
always  agreed,"  Arthur  knew  very  well  on 
which  side  the  agreement  had  been ;  and  the 
recollection  of  a  headless  wooden  horse, 
Orlando's  only  lawful  possession  in  the  play- 
thing line,  appropriated  by  Arthur  because 
he  could  better  harness  it  to  its  cart,  brought 
more  of  a  sting  than  that  of  harsh  words  or 
cold  neglects  of  later  years.  He  might  have 
known,  even  then,  that  this  was  sure  to 
come! 

He  had  gone  over  the  particulars  of  this 
and  other  such  childish  scenes,  not  sparing 
himself  one  detail,  with  a  feeling  that  he 
must  get  the  very  worst.  He  had  shed  no 
tears,  — he  did  not  believe  he  ever  should; 
they  were  not  in  his  way,  and  this  was  no 
time  for  them;  but  when,  for  the  third  time, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          193 

Flora,  though  he  had  hoped  she  would  not, 
opened  the  door  they  came  fast  enough, 
and  he  found  himself  trying  to  speak  - 
choking  —  struggling  —  and  then,  he  hardly 
knew  how,  he  was  on  a  chair  in  the  parlor, 
with  his  head  on  the  cold  marble  of  the 
rickety  centre  table,  shaking  it  all  over 
with  his  violent,  long-drawn  sobs.  They 
seemed  to  him  to  come  from  some  one  else, 
and  he  was  conscious  of  surprise  that  they 
gave  him  any  relief ;  but  as  he  became  aware 
that  they  were  really  his  own,  a  sense  of 
shame  made  him  strive  again  for  composure, 
then  break  down  again  hopelessly,  the  first 
gush  of  relief  giving  place  to  overpowering 
dizzy  weakness. 

"Arthur  —  dear  Arthur  —  don't,  please 
don't!"  The  words  were  in  Flora's  voice, 
and  she  was  bending  over  him,  the  loose 
tendrils  of  her  hair  touching  his  neck. 
"  Dearest  Arthur !  "  and  now  she  was  kneel- 
ing by  him,  her  cheek  wet  with  both  their 
tears.  "Don't,  don't  feel  it  so  terribly! 
You  made  him  happy,  very  happy,  indeed 
you  did;  I  have  never  known  him  happier 
than  he  was  when  he  got  your  letter;"  and 
now  the  light  touch  of  her  hand  was  on  his 
head,  and  her  words  died  away  into  the  ten- 
13 


194          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS, 

der  inarticulate  murmur  with  which  she 
might  have  soothed  one  of  the  children. 

"  Did  you  read  it  ?  "  he  managed  at  last  to 
get  out  with  a  gasping  breath. 

"Yes,  but  never  mind  that,  — he  did 
not.  He  said  he  did  not  wonder  that  you 
were  a  little  impatient  with  him  sometimes, 
and  he  knew  you  meant  to  be  kind;  and  you 
did  mean  to  be  —  did  not  you?  " 

"I  — I  don't  know." 

"  I  saw  why  you  could  not  say  any  more ;  of 
course  he  did  not  know;  but  he  thought  you 
meant  it  just  as  well,  and  he  knows  it  now. 
Do  —  do  be  comforted;  there  is  so  much  you 
can  do  for  him  still !  " 

"  He  —  will  be  here  soon.  Do  they  know  ? 
What  would  they  —  " 

"You  had  better  see  them  first,  if  you 
think  you  can ;  but  wait  a  moment. " 

She  left  the  room,  and  Arthur,  recovering 
himself  a  little,  and  ashamed  to  ask  by  his 
weakness  for  the  heaven  of  her  touch  to  be 
continued,  rose  and  walked  with  uncertain 
step  across  the  floor;  but  she  was  back 
again  in  a  moment  with  a  tray  in  her  hands. 
"You  must  have  some  tea,  and  something 
to  eat.  Yes  —  please  do ;  you  will  feel 
better  after  it." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          195 

He  could  not  let  her  stand  by  him  and 
hold  the  cup,  and  took  it  from  her  hand  list- 
lessly, but  not  refusing,  under  her  eyes,  to 
drink  what  was  in  it,  nor  even  to  swallow  a 
little  food,  and  did  feel  the  better  for  it, 
before  his  mother  came  in  with  a  tearful 
welcome.  Mrs.  Butler's  griefs  were  never 
too  deep  for  tears,  or  words  either,  and  her 
talk,  apt  to  be  a  little  confused,  was  now 
divided  among  sorrow  for  her  son's  loss, 
satisfaction  at  his  sure  prospects  in  another 
world,  hopes  that  Arthur  would  take  warn- 
ing, and  think  of  his  own  extremely  unprom- 
ising ones,  and  gratitude  to  Heaven  that  he 
was  so  well  able  to  take  care  of  them  all. 
Gratitude  to  himself,  as  usual,  was  deemed 
superfluous,  and  more  thanks  were  bestowed 
on  John,  for  the  promise  of  the  "mourning 
suits,"  than  on  Arthur  for  his  intention, 
taken  for  granted,  of  assuming  the  whole 
care  and  support  of  his  brother's  widow  and 
children.  He  let  it  pass,  and  avoided  look- 
ing at  Flora,  though  he  could  see  with  half 
an  eye  her  cheeks  flush  faintly;  and  her 
"  Will  you  not  go  up  to  see  Ida?  "  was  asked 
in  a  trembling  voice. 

Ida  was  extended  on  her  sofa,  her  arm 
around  her  little  girl,  and  her  boy  leaning 


196          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

against  her  shoulder,  both  children  awed  for 
once  into  quietness.  She  seemed  hardly 
conscious  of  anything  that  was  going  on, 
but  when  Arthur  came  near  her,  she  held 
out  her  little  cold  hand  in  a  mechanical  way, 
as  if  it  were  a  lesson  she  had  learned.  He 
took  it,  and  still  holding  it,  sat  down  by  her, 
while  the  children,  relieved  by  the  interrup- 
tion, hung  about  him. 

"  I  want  you  to  know,  Ida,  that  henceforth 
these  children  are  mine." 

"Thank  you,"  murmured  Ida,  in  so  Iowa 
tone  that  he  could  hardly  catch  the  words ; 
"  I  am  sure  you  will ;  you  were  always  kind. " 
She  closed  her  eyes,  and  he  waited  a  moment 
before  he  laid  her  hand  gently  down,  and 
led  away  the  children,  who  were  glad  to 
follow  him  into  the  light.  There  was  some- 
thing in  her  indifference  to  all  but  her  grief, 
and  her  simple  acceptance  of  his  protection, 
that  suited  him  better  than  thanks  could 
have  done. 

The  house  was  soon  full  of  the  usual  sub- 
dued bustle,  —  surging  even  to  the  very 
threshold  of  the  chamber  of  death,  and  only 
sparing  Ida's  room.  How  Flora  contrived 
to  keep  even  Almira,  with  her  mourning 
and  her  patterns  out  of  that,  was  a  marvel 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          197 

to  Arthur,  who  strove  silently  to  help  her, 
even  by  taking  Mrs.  John  Butler's  com- 
plaints and  cross-questions  on  himself, 
repaid  by  the  sense  of  a  confidence  between 
him  and  Flora,  which,  indeed,  she  showed  as 
carelessly  and  freely  as  if  he  were  her 
brother.  It  asked  but  too  plainly  for  a 
return  in  kind;  and  yet,  had  there  been 
nothing  more  in  that  one  fleeting  outburst 
of  priceless  tenderness  ?  Or  was  even  that  a 
sign  of  her  perfect  trust  that  he  would  not 
ask  for  more?  He  could  not  now,  even  if 
the  responsibilities  he  was  taking  upon 
himself  did  not  render  dreams  of  love  and 
marriage  impossible  for  years.  He  did  not 
have  her  for  his  companion  at  the  funeral, 
it  being  evidently  considered  his  right  to 
support  Ida,  while  Flora  walked  behind,  a 
child  in  either  hand.  Ida  did  her  best  not 
to  be  troublesome  to  him,  and  wept  silently 
behind  her  black  veil,  while  she  tried  not 
to  burden  him  with  the  whole  weight  of  her 
slight  form.  Though  her  sister-in-law's 
fixed  opinion  to  the  contrary  was  frequently 
and  freely  expressed,  Ida  did  not  like  to  be 
sickly,  and  a  burden;  indeed,  she  would,  if 
she  could,  have  been  strong  and  healthy. 
She  was  afraid  now  that  she  had  not  been  as 


198          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

good  a  wife  to  Orlando  as  she  ought  to  have 
been;  that  perhaps  she  had  not  managed 
even  as  well  as  she  might ;  and  as  she  stood 
looking  into  his  open  grave  she  strove  hard 
to  remember  the  times  —  and  there  were  a 
few  —  when  he  had  seemed  happy  and  hope- 
ful. To  both  sisters  at  once  vividly  recurred 
the  parting  on  that  early  Monday  morning, 
when  Flora  packed  his  bag,  and  they  had 
hoped  that  Arthur  would  think  the  new  suit 
good  enough. 

"Arthur  always  looks  so  very  elegant, 
doesn't  he?"  Ida  had  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Flora. 

"  I  never  saw  any  one  quite  like  him,  did 
you?" 

"  No  —  but  Orlando  looks  as  nice  as  any 
one  need  to,"  Flora  had  replied,  while  at 
the  same  time  she  held  her  head  low  down 
over  the  open  bag  to  hide  a  conscious  blush, 
too  honest  to  disguise  from  herself  that 
everything  about  Arthur,  even  the  way  in 
which  his  necktie  was  put  on,  was  dear  to 
her,  and  ashamed  that  it  should  be  so. 
Orlando  was  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and 
it  would  be  better  for  Arthur  if  he  were 
more  like  him ;  that  she  allowed,  — but  yet, 
if  in  changing  he  were  to  lose  anything  of 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS  199 

the  outward  graces  which  had  struck  her 
foolish  eyes  when  she  first  set  them  on  him, 
she  was  not  sure  that  she  could  wish  it 
sincerely.  This  was  what  came  back  to  her 
now,  as  she  stood  behind  him.  "Ida,"  she 
thought,  as  she  watched  her  sister's  droop- 
ing head,  "  is  not  so  utterly  unhappy.  Her 
earthly  love  is  fixed  on  heaven  too,  but  mine 
—  no,  it  was  best,  much  the  best,  that  I 
answered  him  as  I  did.  Just  think,  if  I  had 
said  yes,  and  then  had  found  him  unable  to 
do  all  he  ought  for  Ida;  or  unwilling  —  ever 
so  little  —  and  I  had  seen  it!" 


2OO          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER   XL 

r  I  ""HE  funeral  was  over,  and  the  family, 
-*-  assembled  for  a  few  moments  at  their 
mother's  house,  exchanged  questions  and  re- 
marks on  one  another's  several  affairs,  as  is 
the  custom  when  the  scattered  branches  are 
brought  together  for  feasting  or  mourning. 

"When  do  you  go  back,  Art?  S'pose 
you're  in  a  hurry,  as  usual?"  inquired  the 
eldest  brother. 

"  I  cannot  tell  to-night.  I  shall  wait  a 
few  days,  and  see  what  Ida's  wishes  are." 

"When  be  you  goin',  Jonah?"  went  on 
John,  a  little  put  down  by  Arthur's  manner. 

"I  ain't  partickler,  but  I  guess  I'll  get 
off  to-night." 

"Seems  to  me  you  're  in  a  mighty  hurry 
to  get  back  to  old  Hewson's." 

Jonah  snickered  consciously,  and  looked 
at  Arthur,  who  took  no  notice  but  to  say, 
"If  you  mean  to  catch  the  train,  you  had 
certainly  better  go  directly." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          2OI 

"Jone  wanted  you  to  plague  him  a  bit 
about  Miss  Carrie,  I  guess,"  said  John, 
when  Jonah  had  finally  shambled  off  to  bid 
good-by  to  his  mother. 

"  Why,  does  he  mean  to  marry  her?  " 

"  I  guess  she  means  to  marry  him;  it 's  a 
pretty  sure  thing,  for  she  ain't  got  no  time 
to  waste,  and  Jone  has.  I  guess  he  wants 
you  to  come  down  a  little  on  the  occasion." 

"  If  Jonah  is  to  be  married,  and  tells  me 
so  in  a  proper  way,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to 
make  him  a  suitable  present;  but  I  really 
cannot  be  expected  to  divine  the  reasons  of 
his  behavior.  You  can  let  me  know  when 
anything  definite  is  settled;"  and  he  walked 
off  to  avoid  a  second  farewell  scene  with 
Jonah,  for  which  he  saw  no  occasion.  It 
was  not  possible  to  walk  very  far  in  the 
Butler  house,  and  he  only  succeeded  in  get- 
ting as  far  as  the  back  porch,  where  he  sat 
down  in  a  mood  of  disgust  with  himself  and 
his  surroundings.  He  did  not  like  to  feel 
that  his  home  annoyances  had  the  power  to 
affect  him  so  much,  and  he  missed  Orlando, 
who,  though  with  but  little  of  dominant 
character,  had  acted  as  a  solvent  to  the 
irreconcilable  family  elements,  now  bidding 
fair  to  harden  into  utter  separation,  just  as 


2O2          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Arthur  felt  that  he  craved  some  point  of 
sympathy.  Life  looked  blank  and  barren 
before  him;  but  he  had  something  to  work 
for  still,  and  that  was  something  to  live  for. 

Something  to  live  for!  How  the  hot 
blood  surged  through  his  pulses,  and  life 
with  a  flash  grew  beautiful,  if  not  clear;  full 
of  doubts  and  difficulties,  but.  full  of  hopes 
and  promises;  as  Flora  came  out  from  the 
kitchen  door  in  the  dingiest  of  her  old 
calico  gowns,  having  slipped  off  her  mourn- 
ing, and  run  down  to  put  on  the  kettle  for 
an  early  tea  for  Jonah.  She  sat  down  on 
the  bench  by  his  side  with  an  accustomed 
air,  and  a  looker-on  would  have  supposed 
that  they  were  "courting"  at  the  kitchen 
door,  much  as  Jonah  and  Miss  Hewson 
doubtless  transacted  their  affairs.  "  I  have 
been  waiting  to  see  you,"  he  began,  after 
she  had  sat  a  few  moments,  silent,  sad,  and 
calm,  awaiting  his  pleasure.  "  I  am  afraid 
I  shall  have  to  leave  here  to-morrow,  and 
I  want  to  arrange  some  plans  with  your 
sister  before  I  go.  Perhaps  I  had  better  get 
your  opinion  of  them  first.  I  want  Ida  to 
look  to  me  for  everything,  and  to  feel  that  I 
will  do  my  very  best  for  her  children;  she 
knows  that.'1 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          203 

"I  am  sure  she  does." 

"But  I  cannot  do  that  to  my  own  sat- 
isfaction unless  I  have  them  somewhat 
nearer  me." 

"No." 

"  I  shall  probably  be  less  and  less  able  to 
come  here." 

"Yes." 

"How  do  you  think  she  would  like  to 
come  to  Boston,  —  I  mean,  just  out  of  Bos- 
ton? There  is  a  little  house  in  Newton  that 
I  was  thinking  of  for  them.  It  was  bought 
in  cheap  by  a  man  I  know  on  a  mortgage, 
and  I  can  take  it  for  a  couple  of  years,  with 
the  privilege  of  buying  at  any  time;  it  is 
in  a  pleasant  situation,  and  I  should  think 
very  healthy. " 

No  answer. 

"  I  think  the  sooner  she  goes,  the  better. 
I  could  have  things  ready  for  her  in  less 
than  a  month,  and  I  hope  by  that  time  she 
will  be  able  to  come.  Don't  you  think 
the  change  will  be  good  for  her  in  any 
case  ? " 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Flora,  slowly  but 
unhesitatingly. 

"  I  do  not,  as  I  wrote  Orlando,  think  it 
wise  to  break  up  here  all  at  once,  but  if  I 


2O4          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

can  in  time  dispose  of  this  house,  I  think  it 
will  be  much  better  for  my  mother  to  come 
too,  — if  you  are  sure  that  she  and  Ida  will 
be  happy  together  in  the  same  household. 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  exact  truth.  I 
know  you  will." 

"  I  think  they  would  be  very  happy.  They 
were  always  fond  of  each  other." 

"  My  mother  has  peculiar  ways  of  looking 
at  —  some  things;  a  little  different,  I  should 
think,  from  you  and  your  sister." 

"  Oh,  that  does  n't  matter.  If  we  only 
do  just  as  Mrs.  Butler  wants  in  one  or  two 
ways,  she  is  perfectly  satisfied  with  us ;  and 
those  are  no  great  trouble.  Ida  would  a 
great  deal  rather  have  her  than  not." 

"  I  am  very  glad. " 

"  It  will  be  just  as  well,  perhaps,  for  her 
to  have  a  little  rest  here  by  herself.  Mrs. 
Rand  will  be  glad  to  come  and  keep  house 
for  her,  and  Mrs.  Butler  likes  her. " 

"That  will  be  a  very  good  thing;  then 
you  will  have  no  trouble  about  leaving  as 
soon  as  I  can  get  ready?" 

"No,"  said  Flora,  faintly.  Her  color 
went  and  came,  and  her  hands  moved 
uneasily  in  her  lap.  He  himself  felt  the 
blood  rush  to  his  face  as  he  said,  careful  to 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         205 

look  away  from  her  meanwhile,   "You  will 
go  with  your  sister,  will  you  not  ? " 

"No,  I  cannot." 

"  How  can  she  live  without  you  ?  " 

"  She  must.  I  know  it  will  be  hard  for 
her,  but  she  needs  you  the  most;  you  can 
do  so  much  more  for  her  than  I  can." 

"She  might  have  you  too." 

Flora  shook  her  head;  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said  with  an  effort :  "  She 
and  the  children  have  a  claim  on  you  for 
your  brother's  sake.  I  have  none." 

"  You  have  never  forgiven  me,  then?  " 

"There  is  no  question  of  that.  I  have 
nothing  to  forgive,  but  I  don't  want  to 
live  in  your  house  any  longer.  I  ought 
not." 

A  thin  wall  of  ice  seemed  to  rise  between 
them,  through  which  she  glimmered,  remote, 
though  so  near.  Could  he  thaw  it?  He 
could  not  even  try.  He  waited  a  minute, 
and  then  said,  almost  humbly,  "What  do 
you  want  to  do  ? " 

"I  want  to  earn  my  own  living.  I  could 
have  done  it  before,  but  I  never  felt  free  to 
leave  them;  perhaps  I  ought,  but  I  never 
thought,"  her  voice  faltered  —  "I  never 
wanted  to  feel  free  before,  but  now  I  do. 


2O6          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

I  have  known  what  it  is  to  feel  bound." 
She  threw  back  her  head,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  but  shivering,  like  one  who  breathes 
the  rarefied  air  of  freedom  on  the  heights 
for  the  first  time,  and  finds  it  cold ;  then, 
with  a  sudden  practical  turn :  "  Dr.  Griscom 
will  help  me  to  get  a  school  somewhere 
about  here  for  the  fall  term ;  he  always  said 
he  could  any  time.  I  don't  expect  much  at 
first;  but  I  could  study  between,  and  fit  for 
a  better  place  next-  year." 

"  You  ought  not  to  dream  of  such  a  thing ! 
It  is  not  safe  for  you  to  be  alone  in  some 
out-of-the-way  country  hole,"  said  Arthur, 
regarding  her  with  a  look  of  annoyance,  for 
once  uncontrolled ;  but  she  returned  it  with 
one  of  uncomprehending  wonder,  and  even 
with  a  very  faint  gleam  of  amusement. 

"Why,  what  could  happen  to  me?  The 
doctor  would  see  that  I  had  a  good  place 
and  boarded  with  nice  people.  He  knows 
everybody  in  all  the  villages  round.  There 
is  nothing  else  that  I  could  do  that  I  should 
like  so  well." 

"  Could  you  —  could  not  you  —  stay  here 
with  my  mother?  I  mean,  of  course,  with 
Mrs.  Rand  too;  but  you  would  be  a  great 
comfort  to  her  in  many  ways,  and  I  should 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         2O/ 

feel    so    much    easier    about    her  — "      He 
dared  not  go  on. 

"I  cannot,"  she  said,  very  low,  but  decid- 
edly; "you  must  not  ask  me."  She  rose, 
and  he  did  too,  and  they  stood  a  moment, 
she  with  averted  face,  till  suddenly  turning 
round  she  put  her  hand  into  his. 

"Pray,  don't  be  displeased  with  me;  and 
forgive  me  if  I  have  ever  said  anything  to 
you  that  was  unkind.  I  am  sure  we  are  both 
doing  what  is  right  now.  Good-by !  " 

He  could  not  speak  a  word;  but  he  bent 
over  her,  and  pressed  a  long  kiss  on  the 
hand  he  held,  —  exquisite  in  shape,  like  all 
the  rest  of  her,  but  hardened  by  work,  and 
just  now  cold  as  marble. 

A  rattling  of  all  the  smaller  articles  in 
the  kitchen  announced  the  approach  of 
Mrs.  John  Butler,  who  had  come  to  know 
"if  Florer  didn't  ever  mean  to  get  tea. 
I  've  been  settin'  with  the  old  lady,  or 
I  'd  have  seen  to  it  myself.  If  I  was 
Arthur,  I  'd  have  taken  my  tea  here  to- 
night," she  continued,  as  they  gathered 
round  the  table.  "  I  s'pose  our  set-out 
ain't  good  enough  for  him;  but  it  looks 
sort  of  unfeelin'."  Arthur  had  disappeared 
unseen  before  her  onward  advance,  and  gone 


208          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

in  despair  to  visit  Dr.  Griscom,  conscious 
that  he  was  making  himself  ridiculous  to 
that  keen-sighted  observer,  by  his  entreaties 
to  him  to  "  look  after  "  Flora,  yet  unable  to 
help  suggesting  various  projects  which  the 
doctor  summarily  pooh-poohed  as  chimeri- 
cal. However,  he  promised  to  "write  if 
there  were  anything  to  say,"  and  to  "do 
something"  if  there  were  "anything  to  do," 
and  wound  up  the  interview,  as  Arthur 
rose  to  go  and  lingered,  with,  "  Don't 
lose  heart  and  back  out,  that 's  all !  Flora 
Shepherd  is  only  twenty,  and  if  you  waited 
for  her  ten  years  you  would  still  be  a 
great  deal  luckier  fellow  than  you  deserve 
to  be!" 

"  I  am  happy  in  agreeing  with  you  again," 
said  Arthur,  as  he  took  his  leave,  not  dis- 
satisfied that  since  the  doctor  must  know  so 
much,  he  was  so  correctly  informed. 

Flora,  meanwhile,  was  going  through  a 
more  difficult  interview  with  her  sister. 
That  they  were  to  be  separated  had  never 
occurred  to  Ida  for  a  moment,  and  though 
she  saw  the  justice  of  Flora's  arguments, 
and  opposed  none  thereto,  it  was  not  with- 
out many  tears  that  she  finally  reached  the 
point  of  making  definite  arrangements  for 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          2OQ 

her  journey,  — Flora  promising  to  come  on 
at  any  time  in  spite  of  everything,  if  Ida 
were  very  ill,  and  Ida  not  to  send  unless  she 
were  very  ill  indeed.  She  saw  Arthur  for  a 
few  moments  the  next  day  before  he  went, 
and  agreed  resignedly  and  gratefully  to 
everything  he  said,  while  Flora,  standing 
silent  behind  her,  noted  down  in  her  mind 
all  the  practical  directions,  and  as  soon  as 
he  was  gone  proceeded  to  carry  them  out 
with  the  assistance  of  her  friend  Dr.  Gris- 
com.  The  doctor  knew  of  a  school  at  Cold 
Spring,  within  driving  distance,  where  he 
only  had  to  say  a  word  to  the  committee; 
he  also  promised  to  arrange  for  her  taking 
a  course  in  the  Chautauqua  Home  Studies, 
and  to  drive  over  on  Sundays  to  see  her 
sometimes.  He  went  to  Boston  with  Ida 
and  the  children, — a  step  that  amazed  all 
Liverpool,  and  made  Mrs.  John  say  that  "  if 
Florer  didn't  look  out,  Ider  would  get 
ahead  of  her."  However,  as  soon  as  he 
returned  he  drove  Flora  over  to  Cold  Spring 
to  begin  her  duties,  with  her  little  trunk 
strapped  on  behind,  —  patting  her  on  the 
head  as  he  bade  her  good-by,  and  telling  her 
to  be  a  good  child,  and  it  would  all  come  out 
right,  in  a  way  that  was  soothing  to  her, 
14 


210          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

though  it  might  have  exasperated  Arthur 
had  he  been  by  to  see,  and  took  his  lonely 
homeward  way,  unable,  in  his  secret  soul,  to 
help  a  subdued  satisfaction  in  the  thought 
that  it  would  probably  be  some  time  coming 
out  right,  and  that  he  had  a  fair  number  of 
Sunday  drives  to  which  to  look  forward. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          211 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FROM   IDA  TO   FLORA. 

NEWTON  CENTRE,  MASS. 

May  3,  188-. 

A/TY  OWN  DARLING  FLORA,  —  It  does  not 
seem  possible  that  it  is  seven  whole  months 
to-day  since  the  day  I  left  Liverpool  —  dear, 
blessed  place  !  —  and  you,  my  dearest,  and  took  that 
long,  dreadful  journey  without  you  ;  but  it  is.  I  have 
thought  of  it  as  every  month  came  round.  I  long 
for  you  more  to-day  than  any  of  the  others,  it  is  so 
lovely  here  now,  and  you  would  enjoy  it  so  much. 
You  don't  know  what  splendid  places  there  are  all 
around  us,  and  they  are  all  full  of  flowers  now.  My 
own  little  garden  is  as  pretty  as  can  be,  for  Arthur 
has  taken  great  pains  with  it ;  he  had  a  great  many 
bulbs  set  out  last  fall,  and  they  have  been  too  beauti- 
ful. The  hyacinths  and  tulips  are  in  full  bloom  now, 
and  there  are  a  great  many  flowering  shrubs.  Since 
you  wrote  to  me  about  all  you  were  studying,  I 
wanted  to  study  something,  too,  and  Miss  Meade 
is  giving  me  and  the  children  lessons  in  botany 
together.  She  knows  so  much  about  everything !  — 
I  should  think  almost  too  much  to  teach  such  little 
children,  but  Arthur  says  they  ought  to  have  a  lady 


212          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

and  a  thoroughly  educated  one  about  them  now,  even 
more  than  later.  I  am  afraid  he  gives  her  a  great 
deal,  for  she  is  worth  it.  She  does  make  them  behave 
so  nicely ;  and  then  Arthur  himself  does  so  much 
good  to  Landy,  —  he  is  making  a  perfect  little  gen- 
tleman of  him,  just  what  his  father  always  longed  to 
see  him.  If  he  only  could  ! 

I  do  so  long  to  show  them  both  to  you,  dearest, 
and  wish  sometimes  that  I  could  truly  say  that  I 
was  ill  enough  to  send  for  you  ;  but  I  ought  not  to 
want  such  a  thing,  and  I  really  am  very  well  indeed, 
and  so  much  stronger.  I  told  you  last  week  that 
Katy  had  gone,  and  that  I  was  going  to  try  to  get 
along  with  only  Lizzie  and  a  woman  to  wash  by  the 
day,  and  I  find  it  answers  perfectly  well,  though 
Arthur  was  very  much  afraid  it  would  not,  and 
wanted  me  to  get  some  one  else  directly.  But  I 
really  like  all  the  exercise  it  gives  me  to  do  part  of 
the  work,  and  Lizzie  is  quite  contented,  for  she 
could  never  get  along  with  Katy.  I  could  not  bear 
to  have  Arthur  spending  so  much  of  his  money 
upon  us,  though  he  says  I  do  with  wonderfully  little. 
He  ought  to  be  thinking  of  marrying  himself,  for 
how  happy  he  would  make  some  nice  girl,  if  he 
only  finds  one  good  enough  for  him. 

On  Saturday  Mrs.  McCall  asked  the  children  to 
a  little  party  at  her  house  ;  only  a  very  few  for  the 
afternoon,  and  tea.  I  asked  Arthur  if  I  had  better 
let  them  go,  —  they  wanted  to  so  much,  —  and  he 
approved  of  it,  and  said  the  McCalls  were  very 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          21 3 

respectable  people.  It  was  Miss  Meade's  half-holi- 
day, and  I  hated  to  keep  her  all  day  just  for  that,  so  I 
sent  Lizzie  with  them,  and  she  left  them  there,  and  I 
went  for  them  myself  a  little  while  before  it  was  time 
to  come  home.  I  dreaded  it,  for  you  know  I  have 
been  nowhere  but  to  church  since  I  came  here,  but 
Mrs.  McCall  has  been  so  kind  to  me  that  I  thought 
I  ought  to  ;  so  I  mustered  up  all  the  courage  I  could, 
though  I  stood  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  the  gate 
before  I  could  make  up  my  mind  to  go  in.  Oh, 
how  I  did  long  for  you  !  I  should  not  have  minded 
it  if  we  had  been  together ;  but  I  did  go  in  at  last, 
and  was  glad  I  did,  for  I  really  enjoyed  it,  after  the 
first  shock  of  meeting  so  many  was  over.  There 
were  not  many  grown-up  people  there,  and  they  were 
all  so  kind.  Mrs.  Lamson  and  Mrs.  Searle  were 
there,  who,  you  will  remember.  I  told  you  had  called 
on  me.  As  for  Mrs.  McCall,  she  is  perfectly  delight- 
ful, just  as  if  she  were  my  mother.  She  begged  me 
to  come  again,  and  said  I  need  not  call  it  visiting, 
but  she  wished  I  would  bring  Landy  and  Flossy  and 
let  them  play  about  her  beautiful  grounds.  They 
are  far  more  lovely  inside  than  seen  from  without, 
and  the  house  is  magnificent. 

I  do  think  our  children  were  the  prettiest  there ; 
and  they  behaved  so  nicely  !  I  wish  you  could  have 
seen  them.  Landy  wore  the  sailor  suit  I  made  for 
him.  I  had  his  old  bought  one  for  a  pattern  ;  but 
Arthur  was  surprised  I  could  do  so  well.  I  told  him 
I  was  nothing  to  you  in  such  ways.  As  for  Flossy, 


214          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

she  wore  her  white  frock  that  I  wrote  you  about. 
Every  one  did  admire  her  hair  so ;  and  Landy's, 
since  his  was  cut,  curls  in  rings  all  over  his  head,  so 
that  I  am  quite  reconciled  to  having  it  short,  though 
1  hated  the  idea,  and  only  had  it  done  because 
Arthur  said  he  was  getting  too  old  for  long  hair. 

Dearest,  dearest  Flora,  I  feel  like  only  part  of 
myself  without  you.  Of  course,  I  miss  dear  Or- 
lando every  moment,  and  sometimes  I  feel  it  to  be 
almost  too  hard  that  he  could  not  have  been  spared 
to  see  us  so  much  better  off;  but  I  know  he  is  hap- 
pier now  than  he  could  be  even  here.  But  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  of  your  being  all  alone  by  yourself  in 
Cold  Spring.  Don't  you  think  you  might  find  some 
teaching  here  ?  I  don't  see  why  you  should  object 
to  teaching  Landy  and  Flossy ;  only,  I  should  not 
like  to  give  up  Miss  Meade,  on  her  own  account, 
for  she  says  she  likes  the  place  better  than  any  she 
ever  had.  She  seems  very  fond  of  me  and  the 
children,  and  admires  Arthur  intensely.  She  thinks 
him  the  finest  man  she  ever  saw.  I  shall  consult 
him,  and  see  if  he  cannot  think  of  some  plan  for 
getting  you  here ;  I  am  sure  he  will.  I  shall  tell 
him  I  can't  live  without  you  any  longer.  I  see  him 
now  coming  from  the  station  before  lunch,  which  is 
unusual,  and  he  seldom  comes  out  on  Mondays,  any- 
how ;  so  I  must  close  this  with  fondest  love  from 

Your  own  IDA. 

P.  S.  Arthur  has  come  for  me  to  go  into  town 
with  him  to  choose  a  wedding  present  for  Jonah. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          21$ 

I  dare  say  before  you  get  this  you  will  have  heard 
that  he  is  married  to  Carrie  Hewson.  They  did 
not  write  till  it  was  over,  and  Arthur  only  heard  this 
morning.  I  hope  she  is  a  good  girl,  and  will  please 
dear  mother.  Do  find  out  all  you  can  about  her, 
and  let  me  know. 

Miss  FLORA  M.  SHEPHERD, 
Care  of  Mr.  Martin  Van  Slyck, 

Cold  Spring,  New  York. 

Flora  opened  and  read  this  letter  in  her 
room,  some  nine  feet  square,  at  Cold  Spring. 
It  held  but  little  furniture,  and  what  there 
was,  was  cheap  and  well-worn,  but  it  was  in 
the  nicest  and  most  precise  order.  As  the 
occupant  did  her  own  washing,  she  could 
afford  cleanliness  as  well,  and  the  white 
draperies,  the  only  sign  of  luxury,  were  spot- 
less, if  scant  and  none  too  fine.  The  place 
had  somewhat  the  effect  of  a  convent  cell, 
and  Flora,  in  her  straight,  plain  black  gown, 
which,  though  not  new,  had  the  effect  of 
being  as  dazzlingly  fresh  in  black  as  her  sur- 
roundings in  white,  might  have  sat  for  the 
nun  but  for  the  indefinite  air  of  promise, 
that  had  not  yet,  even  in  sadness,  left  her 
youthful  face.  She  read  the  letter  over 
again  and  again,  with  careful  study.  Ida 
was  evidently  recovering  the  tone  of  her 


2l6          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

mind,  and  taking  a  little  comfort  in  what 
remained,  —  that  was  well.  Arthur  was  evi- 
dently doing  all  he  could  for  Ida  and  the 
children,  and  that  he  could  do  so  much  was 
well  too,  though  it  made  her  own  hope  of 
being  able  to  help  them  a  much  more  distant 
one.  She  wondered  how  much  he  spent  on 
them  a  year,  and  she  took  out  her  own  small 
savings'-bank  book,  though  she  knew  without 
looking  how  much  she  had  already  put  by. 
It  was  her  dream  to  lay  up  a  respectable 
sum,  until  she  could  feel  justified  in  apply- 
ing for  a  place  near  Boston,  —  a  good  place 
with  a  good  salary;  and  she  felt  that  such 
a  one  might  be  within  her  reach,  with  all 
the  time  and  thought  she  was  putting  into 
hard  study,  —  so  that  she  might  offer  to  con- 
tribute half  of  Ida's  and  the  children's 
expenses.  It  was  not  fair  to  Arthur  Butler, 
she  reasoned,  that  if  she  would  not  have 
him  he  should  be  deprived  of  the  chance  of 
marrying  some  one  else  if  he  wanted  to; 
and  if  he  did  not  want  to  marry  any  one 
else  —  and  Flora,  though  she  always  felt 
ashamed,  and  tried  to  hurry  over  this  latter 
supposition,  had  a  secret  consciousness  that 
he  would  not  —  it  might  be  well  to  have 
something  of  her  own  too. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


This  was  a  very  nice  little  plan,  the  only 
objection  to  it  being  that  it  required  for  its 
execution  at  least  double  the  time  that  the 
doctor  had  mentioned  as  the  limit  of  waiting. 
But  to  Flora,  whose  ideas  of  money  values 
were  on  a  very  small  scale,  and  who  had- 
not  the  faintest  conception  of  how  much 
Arthur  made  or  spent  in  a  year,  it  seemed 
most  promising.  She  found  her  chief  hap- 
piness in  thinking  it  over,  and  congratulated 
herself  on  getting  a  vacation  school  for  small 
children  whose  mothers  wished  to  be  rid  of 
their  presence  for  part  of  the  day  through 
the  heats  of  summer;  the  gain  was  small, 
but  every  little  would  help.  Sustained  by 
hope,  she  did  not  heed  that  her  sister's 
letters  grew,  as  summer  advanced,  shorter 
and  more  irregular.  She  supposed  Ida  was 
busy,  and  was  glad  she  should  be,  —  it  was 
best  for  her.  Her  good  neighbors,  the 
McCalls,  she  wrote,  were  going  to  the  Isles 
of  Shoals  for  the  month  of  August,  and 
wanted  her  and  the  children  to  go  with 
them  ;  and  Arthur  insisted  that  she  should, 
it  would  be  so  good  for  them  all,  —  and  take 
Lizzie,  so  that  she  should  have  a  thorough 
rest.  He  would  come  and  sleep  in  the 
empty  cottage,  and  the  laundress  would  look 


21 8          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

after  him,  and  he  would  try  to  run  down 
if  he  could,  though  he  was  very  busy.  She 
was  afraid  it  was  a  very  expensive  plan,  but 
it  would  be  such  a  delicious  change;  and 
then,  to  see  the  ocean !  If  only  Flora  were 
with  her  for  her  first  gaze  at  this  wonder, 
unseen  by  either!  The  McCalls  were  so 
very,  very  kind ;  she  felt  as  if  she  had  known 
them  a  great  while;  and  they  had  even  per- 
suaded her  to  come  in  once  or  twice  to  tea, 
—  no  company,  of  course,  only  one  or  two  of 
their  relations  who  were  staying  with  them. 
Her  letters  from  the  Shoals  were  shorter 
still,  but  cheerful ;  the  place  was  charming, 
the  McCalls  all  goodness,  the  children  in 
splendid  condition,  and  she  herself  better 
and  stronger  than  she  had  been  since  she 
was  a  girl.  Arthur  could  not  manage  to 
come,  which  was  a  disappointment,  but  he 
would  be  surprised  to  see  how  well  they  all 
were  when  they  came  back. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          2 1C) 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

the  morning  of  the  8th  of  September, 
Arthur  was  busy  in  his  private  office, 
when  his  boy  brought  in  a  card,  — 


MR.    HAMLIN    B.    McCALL, 
2000    MAIN    STREET, 

KANSAS  CITY,  Mo. 
Railway  Supplies. 


"Tell  the  gentleman  I  will  see  him  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  or  if  he  cannot  wait  now, 
at  half-past  eleven,"  he  said  without  rais- 
ing his  eyes,  and  hardly  looking  at  the  card. 
The  gentleman  preferred  to  wait,  and  entered 
punctually  at  the  close  of  the  stipulated  quar- 
ter, —  a  big,  ruddy-faced  man,  middle-aged, 
but  still  alert  in  his  bearing,  with  gray 
mutton-chop  whiskers;  more  like  the  popu- 
lar conception  of  an  Englishman  than  a 


220        BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Western  man.  He  was  well  dressed,  though 
with  some  little  over-display  of  watch  chain, 
rings,  and  studs.  He  began  in  a  loud, 
cheerful,  deep  chest  voice:  — 

"Very  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Mr.  Butler." 

Arthur  bowed,  and  offered  him  a  seat. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  seen  by  my  card 
where  I  live,  and  what  my  business  is,"  went 
on  his  visitor;  "I  bank  with  the  Merchants' 
Bank  here,  and  they  and  my  other  Boston 
correspondents,  Messrs.  Fisk  and  Water- 
man, can  tell  you  it's  a  good  one." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it. " 

"  I  have  two  blocks  of  buildings  on  the 
best  part  of  Main  Street,  without  encum- 
brance, and  a  good  lot  of  land  out  of  town  on 
Western  Avenue, —  that  's  our  most  fashion- 
able residence  street,  — and  sure  to  rise  in 
value.  I  am  ready  to  build  out  there  any 
time  a  first-class  house." 

"  You  are  to  be  congratulated. " 

"I  ain't  sure  of  that  yet,"  said  Mr. 
McCaU,  laughing  and  looking  conscious; 
"I'm  coming  to  that  point  by  and  by.  But 
now  as  to  my  personal  character ;  Reverend 
Dr.  Wilkinson,  my  pastor,  of  the  First 
Baptist  Church  in  Kansas  City  —  he 'swell 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  221 

known  at  the  Baptist  Seminary  in  Newton, 
where  he  graduated  —  can  answer  for  that.  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  any  one  write  to  him, 
without  introduction  from  me,  if  they  wanted 
to  be  sure  on  that  point ;  I  know  well  enough 
what  he  'd  say." 

Arthur  could  only  bow,  wondering  what 
business  all  this  preface  portended,  but  sus- 
pecting from  the  extreme  anxiety  of  his 
visitor  to  present  his  claims  to  the  best 
advantage  that  it  was  not  likely  to  turn  out 
very  advantageous  to  himself. 

"  My  brother,  Anson  J.  McCall,  of  McCall, 
Sims,  &  Stodder  —  you  know  them,  I  sup- 
pose—  lives  out  at  Newton  Centre;  he 
would  be  very  glad  to  see  you  any  time,  and 
his  pastor,  Reverend  Mr.  Close,  will  let  me 
refer  to  him  with  pleasure." 

"I  dare  say  it  will  not  be  necessary." 

"Well,  I  want  to  be  all  fair  and  square 
and  above  board.  Living  so  far  off  I  feel 
more  anxious  about  it  than  I  should  if  I 
were  right  close  by,  where  I  knew  every- 
body, and  everybody  knew  me."  He  paused 
with  a  slight  hesitation,  and  Arthur  augured 
yet  more  unfavorably  of  the  overtures  he 
was  doubtless  about  to  make. 

"The  fact  is,"  resumed  Mr.  McCall,  draw- 


222          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

ing  his  chair  a  little  closer,  —  "I  mean,  you 
might  naturally  suppose  from  my  age  and 
all  that  that  I  'm  a  married  man,  but  I  'm 
not.  I  was  n't  going  to  marry  till  I  could 
keep  a  wife  to  suit  me.  I  'm  afraid  I  've 
waited  too  long,  perhaps,  but  when  I  got  up 
a  peg  in  the  world,  I  made  up  my  mind  I  'd 
look  high.  I  don't  feel  inclined  to  marry 
in  Kansas  City,  though  we  have  some  very 
fine  ladies  there,  very  fine  indeed;  but  I 
wanted  something  a  little  out  of  the  com- 
mon, and  when  I  come  East  this  summer  it 
was  as  much  for  that  as  anything  else.  I 
mean,  I  thought  I  'd  look  about  me,  and  see 
if  I  couldn't  get  something  worth  waiting 
for." 

He  stopped  and  wiped  his  face,  now  a 
shade  ruddier  than  usual,  with  his  pocket- 
handkerchief,  then  proceeded  in  a  jerky 
style,  unlike  the  confident  swing  of  his 
commencement. 

"I've  been  staying  at  my  brother's,  and 
then  at  the  Shoals  with  his  family,  and  I 
have  met  a  very  charming  young  lady,  who  is, 
I  believe,  your  sister-in-law,  —  Mrs.  Orlando 
Butler."  The  ice  once  broken,  he  went  on 
more  glibly;  though  somewhat  constrained 
by  the  unresponsiveness  of  his  hearer. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         223 

"  I  've  never  had  much  time  to  cultivate 
ladies'  society,  but  I  ain't  sorry  for  it,  if  I 
can  only  get  her  to  think  of  me.  I  never 
saw  any  one  to  equal  her — never!  I  tell 
you,  I  'd  be  proud  to  take  her  West !  If  she 
won't  be  admired  in  Kan'  City,  I  don't  know 
'em  there,  that 's  all." 

"  My  sister-in-law  only  returned  day  be- 
fore yesterday,  and  I  have  seen  her  but 
once.  She  did  not  speak  of  this  to  me, 
but  —  " 

"Bless  you!  she  don't  know  it!  I  've  said 
nothing  to  her  about  it  at  all.  I  wouldn't 
have  felt  bound  to  speak  to  any  one  but  the 
lady  herself  in  most  cases,  but  this  seemed 
a  little  peculiar.  Living  so  far  off  I  wanted 
to  be  ahead  of  her  friends,  in  case  they 
had  any  objections  to  make.  You  seem  the 
only  one  she  's  got,  and  I  know  she  thinks 
the  world  of  you,"  looking  with  some  curi- 
osity, faintly  tinged  with  jealousy,  at  his 
self-possessed  auditor.  "She's  told  me  all 
about  your  supporting  her  and  the  children. 
It 's  very  good  of  you,  I  'm  sure,  —  very  good ; 
but  you  must  be  wanting  to  marry  your- 
self by  this  time,"  throwing  a  quick  glance 
at  Arthur,  "and  't ain't  always  agreeable 
in  that  case  to  have  a  whole  family  upon 


224          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

your  hands,  and  an  old  mother  into  the 
bargain,  I  believe." 

"  My  sister  and  her  children  have  never 
been  felt  by  me  to  be  a  burden." 

"  No  offence,  no  offence,  I  'm  sure.  She's 
saying  all  the  time  how  generous  you  are; 
and  you  seem,"  looking  round  the  room, 
"to  be  doing  pretty  well;  but  it  comes  more 
natural  to  a  woman  to  be  supported  by  a 
husband  than  a  brother-in-law,  if  he's  ever 
so  willing;  and  even  if  you  were  able  to 
marry,  and  still  keep  'em  all,  why,  your 
wife  mightn't  like  it.  Now,  I'm  willing 
and  able  to  take  the  whole  family.  The 
children  are  nice  little  things,  and  mighty 
pretty.  The  little  girl  will  be  a  rip-staver, 
I  can  tell  you,  when  she  grows  up.  I  '11 
settle  a  good  bit  of  my  real  estate  on  her, 
with  reversion  to  them,  and  if  I  go  on  as  I 
hope  to,  I  '11  push  the  boy  ahead,  and  fit  out 
the  girl  in  style.  I  always  liked  children, 
and  at  my  time  of  life  I  don't  mind  begin- 
ning with  a  pair,  —  't  ain't  like  a  young  man. 
And  she  says  she  's  got  a  sister,  teaching 
school  somewhere  in  New  York  State;  she 
can  have  her  to  live  with  her  too,  and  I  '11 
clothe  her  well.  If  she  's  anything  like  Ida 
—  Mrs.  Butler —  she  says  she  's  handsomer, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          22$ 

but  that  I  don't  credit  —  she  won't  be  on  my 
hands  long  in  Kan'  City;  go  off  there  like 
hot  cakes." 

"  Mrs.  Butler  will  appreciate  your  gener- 
osity; but  I  do  not  think  tnat  she  has  any 
idea  of  marrying  again." 

"  How  should  she?"  asked  his  interlocu- 
tor, triumphantly,  "when  she  hasn't  been 
asked?  She  ain't  one  to  think  of  a  man 
first.  She  's  a  thorough-bred  lady,  through 
and  through.  Perhaps  you  may  think  her 
too  good  for  me,  so  young  as  she  is,  and 
such  a  beauty,  but  she  might  go  further  and 
fare  worse.  I  '11  bring  'em  East  every  few 
years,  and  first  chance  I  get  I  '11  take  'em 
all  to  Europe." 

"  My  sister  must  decide  for  herself  in 
such  a  matter.  But  you  must  remember 
that  she  has  been  a  widow  a  very  short  time, 
and  became  one  under  particularly  distress- 
ing circumstances,  and  it  will,  I  fear,  be 
a  shock  to  her  feelings  to  have  such  a  pro- 
posal made  so  soon." 

"Why,  your  brother's  been  dead  a  whole 
year,  hasn't  he?  Lord  bless  you!  I  haven't 
the  least  doubt  that  he  was  an  excellent 
man,  but  you  can't  expect  her  not  to  marry 
again,  at  her  time  of  life  !  I  don't  want  to 
15 


226          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

hurt  her  feelings,  or  to  hurry  her  out  of 
reason;  I  won't  expect  her  to  give  me  an 
answer  just  yet;  but  I  've  got  to  go  back  to 
Kansas  City  in  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks, 
and  I  can't  go  without  I  speak  to  her  first, 
and  put  the  idea  into  her  head  at  any  rate. 
I  can't  be  back  for  four  weeks,  and  I  dare  n't 
let  it  go  till  then;  some  one  else  will  be 
sure  to  come  along ! " 

"Hardly  —  she  lives  so  very  quietly." 
"Well,  here  am  I,  you  see,"  said  the 
Kansas  Citizen,  throwing  his  portly  figure 
back  in  his  chair,  "and  there  '11  be  sure  to 
be  some  one  else.  It 's  only  fair  I  should 
have  the  first  chance.  She  thinks  no  end  of 
you,  and  your  advice  will  go  a  great  way 
with  her.  I  don't  think  it'll  be  fair  for  you 
to  set  her  against  me,  when  I  've  been  so 
open  with  you  from  the  start." 

"  I  should  never  dream  of  advising  my 
sister  in  such  a  case,  unless  there  were  some 
very  serious  reason  for  it.  I  do  not  suppose 
that  there  is  anything  to  be  known  which 
should  prevent  her  marrying  you  if  she 
liked  you.  I  will  see  your  brother — I  have 
met  him  once  or  twice,  and  know  him  well 
by  reputation.  He  and  Mrs.  McCall  have 
been  very  kind  to  Mrs.  Butler." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  22/ 

"Of  course  they  have  —  they  couldn't 
help  it;  and  Lucy,  my  sister,  she  says  to 
me  just  as  soon  as  I  come  on  East  this 
time:  '  Hamlin,  if  I  haven't  got  just  the 
wife  for  you  I'm  mistaken!'  Lucy's  a 
right  good  woman !  She  longs  to  have  me 
married,  which  is  real  kind-hearted  of  her, 
for  her  children  would  come  in  otherwise 
for  my  little  pile;  but  they'll  have  plenty. 
I  can  tell  you,  Lucy '11  be  pleased!  She 
and  all  of  'em  never  knew  any  one  they 
liked  as  quick  as  they  did  Mrs.  Butler. 
Lucy  says  she  never  saw  anything  so  lovely 
as  she  looked  coming  to  church  in  her  black, 
with  those  two  little  children,  and  looking 
a  child  herself!  You'll  think  I 'm  a  fool, 
but  wait  till  you're  in  love  yourself,"  with 
another  scrutinizing  glance  at  Arthur,  who 
stood  it  with  perfect  unconcern.  "I  sup- 
pose you  've  always  thought  of  her  as  though 
she  were  a  sister  of  your  own,  and  if  she 
were,  you  might  not  get  a  really  better 
chance  for  her." 

"  I  am  sure  your  attachment  is  a  generous 
one,  and  it  is  due  to  you  that  she  should  know 
it.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  you  have  my  full 
consent;  only,  I  must  tell  you  plainly  that  I 
don't  think  you  have  the  slightest  chance." 


228          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"That 's  very  proper;  that's  all  I  expect 
you  to  say,"  said  Mr.  McCall.  "Lord 
bless  you!  I  don't  expect  her  to  jump  at 
me.  Just  let  me  make  a  beginning;"  and 
he  rose  and  departed,  well  satisfied. 

Arthur  made  a  few  inquiries,  which 
seemed  amply  to  confirm  everything  his 
visitor  had  stated  about  himself,  but  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  look  very  deeply 
into  the  matter,  not  expecting  to  have  any 
further  trouble  with  it;  otherwise,  he  could 
not  have  dismissed  it  so  quietly.  He  had 
grown  to  regard  the  prospect  of  starting  in 
life  with  a  ready-made  family  With  nearly 
as  much  equanimity  as  Mr.  McCall,  and  Ida 
was  dear  to  him  now  for  her  own  sake,  as 
well  as  her  sister's. 

He  had  given  up  his  luxurious  quarters 
in  town,  and  kept  a  modest  pied-a-terre 
there,  as  well  as  one  in  Newton  that  he 
might  be  able  to  look  in  upon  Ida  at  any 
time.  He  was  not  surprised  when  he  called 
that  evening  to  find  her  in  a  state  of  tearful 
agitation,  and  helped  her  to  confess  what 
she  seemed  unable  to  tell  by  saying,  "  I  sup- 
pose Mr.  McCall  has  been  here." 

"Yes,"  said  Ida,  blushing  through  her 
tears,  "  I  am  so  sorry !  " 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.          22Q 

"  So  am  I.  He  applied  to  me  beforehand, 
and  I  would  rather  you  had  been  spared 
this;  but  I  could  not  refuse  my  consent  to 
his  speaking  to  you.  I  had  no  right  to  do 
so.  But  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  think  he 
had  the  slightest  chance." 

"No;  but  I  am  so  sorry  for  him." 

"He  seems  a  very  worthy  man." 

"  Yes  —  oh,  yes ;  he  was  so  very  kind  to 
me,  and  to  the  children,  too,  at  the  Isles  of 
Shoals.  He  spoke  so  feelingly  of  them,  and 
said  he  would  be  a  father  to  them." 

"Fortunately,  my  dear  Ida,  you  are  not 
obliged  to  marry  for  your  children's  sake." 

"  No  —  oh,  no ;  you  are  so  generous,  so 
very  kind.  Mr.  McCall  spoke  most  highly 
of  you ;  but  he  says  it  would  be  only  natural 
if  you  should  want  to  marry  yourself  some 
time,  and  then — •" 

"  He  had  no  business  to  say  any  such 
thing.  I  hope  you  told  him  that  I  knew  he 
would  not  please  your  taste;  but  it  would 
have  been  of  no  use  to  tell  him  so,  or  I 
would  not  have  let  him  come." 

"  I  am  sure  he  meant  no  harm.  He  spoke 
of  you  with  great  admiration,  and  said  there 
were  very  few  young  men  who  would  have 
behaved  like  you.  I  felt  ashamed  to  think 


230          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

how  I  had  taken  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course. 
I  felt  as  if  I  had  never  thanked  you  as  I 
should." 

"  Vulgar  brute !  "  muttered  Arthur,  be- 
tween his  teeth. 

"Oh,  he  did  not  say  it  in  that  way;  it  was 
all  most  kind.  It  was  my  fault  if  too  much 
was  said,  for  I  really  did  not  know  how  to 
answer  him  as  I  ought ;  I  was  so  surprised, 
so  frightened.  I  never  dreamed  at  the  Isles 
of  Shoals  that  he  was  thinking  of  such  a 
thing.  I  thought  it  was  only  his  kindness, 
and  that  he  was  so  fond  of  children.  He 
admired  Landy  and  Flossy." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  him  ? "  asked 
Arthur,  feeling  that  the  task  of  conveying 
a  decided  rejection  to  Mr.  Hamlin  McCall 
was  to  be  thrown  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
that  he  should  take  a  savage  pleasure  in  it. 

"Oh,  I  told  him  I  couldn't,  not  possibly, 
—  it  is  so  soon,  so  very  soon;  and  I  could 
not  think  of  marrying  again  at  any  rate.  Of 
course  I  could  never  love  any  one  as  I 
had  — "  Her  voice  grew  stifled.  "But  he 
said  he  should  not  ask  me  to ;  all  he  wanted 
was  that  I  should  consent  to  marry  him,  and 
let  him  devote  his  life  to  making  me  happy. 
I  could  hardly  get  him  to  go,  but  I  said  I 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         2$l 

could  not  bear  to  hear  any  more,"  said 
Ida,  relieving  herself  with  a  fresh  burst  of 
tears. 

"  He  was  very  selfish  to  give  you  so  much 
pain  for  no  use.  A  man  has  no  right  to 
thrust  himself  upon  a  woman  in  that  way." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  meant  to  hurt  my  feel- 
ings. He  seems  really  to  be  very  fond  of 
me.  He  thinks  a  great  deal  more  highly  of 
me  than  I  deserve." 

"Well,  my  dear,  don't  trouble  yourself 
about  him  any  more.  If  he  comes  again — • 
and  I  hope  he  will  not  —  refer  him  to  me. 
And  now  let  us  talk  about  something  else. 
Have  you  heard  lately  from  Liverpool  ?  " 

"I  have  heard  from  Flora;  she  does  not 
mention  having  been  there  since  she  last 
wrote ;  she  cannot  get  to  Liverpool  often ; 
but  if  dear  mother  were  ill,  she  would  be 
sure  to  have  heard." 

"  What  does  she  say  ?  " 

"You  can  see  the  letter  if  you  want  to," 
said  Ida,  rapidly  glancing  over  it,  and  satis- 
fying herself  that  there  was  nothing  private 
in  it,  — an  expression  which  she  had  come  to 
use  with  a  good  deal  of  latitude,  authorizing 
her  to  allow  Arthur  to  read  nine  tenths  of 
her  letters  from  her  sister,  though  she  never 


232  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

mentioned  this  to  Flora.  "  She  would  write 
with  less  freedom,"  she  thought;  "and  it  is 
so  natural  that  Arthur  should  want  to  hear 
all  about  his  mother,  and  his  old  home;  and 
mother  does  not  write  often  now,  —  it  is  get- 
ting to  be  an  effort  to  her." 

"  It  seems  your  letters  have  been  rather 
short  lately,"  said  Arthur,  who  was  devour- 
ing eight  pages  in  Flora's  delicate  legible 
hand-writing,  that  would  have  looked  old- 
fashioned  if  it  had  not  been  so  peculiar  and 
characteristic.  He  could  not  imagine  how 
she  could  write  so  much  about  so  little;  but 
he  found  it  very  easy  to  read,  though  he  was 
conscious  of  breathing  a  rarefied  atmosphere 
as  he  read  her  long  tales  about  her  school- 
keeping  experiences,  and  the  characters  of 
all  the  children,  and  how  she  was  afraid  of 
being  partial  to  Emma  Widemeyer,  who 
looked  a  little  like  Flossy,  only  not  nearly 
so  pretty.  "  She  speaks  of  your  not  having 
answered  some  of  her  questions." 

"  Oh,  yes  —  it  is  too  bad ;  but  there  was  so 
much  going  on  at  the  Shoals.  Poor  Mrs. 
McCall!  she  and  all  of  them  were  so  kind! 
I  am  afraid  she  will  feel  very  sorry  about 
this.  I  don't  suppose  the  idea  ever  occurred 
to  her  when  she  asked  me  to  go  there." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         233 

"Don't  you  think  she  will  visit  you  this 
autumn  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  very  kind  in  her,  but  I  am 
sure  her  feelings  must  be  hurt.  Oh,  you 
mean  Flora!  no,  I  don't  think  she  will.  I 
have  asked  her  several  times,  and  told  her 
that  I  knew  you  wished  it,  but  Flora  is  very 
independent.  She  told  me  when  she  came 
here  that  she  could  not  live  in  your  house ; 
but  I  should  think  she  might  make  a  visit, 
when  you  are  so  kind,  and  I  do  so  long  to 
see  her !  Mr.  McCall  spoke  so  kindly  about 
her!  He  wanted  her  to  live  with  me,  and 
said  she  should  be  like  his  own  sister!" 

Again  Ida  seemed  tearfully  inclined,  and 
Arthur  thought  it  best  to  leave  her  to  sleep 
off  her  worries.  He  could  imagine  that  her 
refusal  had  been  couched  in  the  mildest 
terms,  and  accompanied  with  many  apolo- 
gies ;  but  he  was  not  prepared  for  the 
appearance  of  the  rejected  lover  the  next 
morning  at  his  office,  in  the  best  of  spirits. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Butler !  have  you 
seen  your  sister?" 

"Yes,  I  called  on  her  last  evening." 

"How  is  she?" 

"  I  found  her  rather  painfully  agitated." 

"Yes,  she  was  a  good  deal  overcome,   I 


234          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

think;  she's  a  delicate  little  thing.  But 
she  gave  me  all  the  .encouragement  I  could 
ask  for.  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  all 
right  now." 

"I  must  say  I  received  a  very  different 
impression.  She  told  me  she  did  not  wish 
to  marry  you  at  all,  and  that  it  was  most 
painful  to  her  to  have  the  subject  brought 
before  her  so  soon." 

"  Lord  bless  you !  what  else  could  she  say? 
She'll  say  it  a  good  many  times  yet,  of 
course.  But  I  've  no  fear  but  what  I  can 
bring  her  round.  Why,  if  she  were  dead 
set  against  marrying  again  at  any  price, 
there  would  n't  have  been  so  much  said  about 
it's  being  too  soon,  don't  you  see?  It  was 
her  saying  that  so  often  that  made  me  see  I 
had  a  good  chance,  if  I  pressed  it. " 

"  Perhaps  you  have,  if  you  press  it  without 
regard  to  her  wishes. " 

"Sho!  girls  don't  know  what  they  wish 
or  want;  and  Ida,  though  she's  been  mar- 
ried, is  really  but  a  girl,  —  more  innocent 
than  any  girl  I  ever  saw.  A  country  min- 
ister's wife,  married  at  seventeen,  what 
should  she  know  of  the  world?  But  it 's  all 
right;  if  she'd  been  a  regular  widow  on 
the  look-out  for  a  husband  she  'd  never  have 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.          235 

caught  me.  I  don't  mean  to  say  anything 
against  your  brother,  you  know.  She'll 
never  hear  a  word  from  me  that  isn't  most 
respectful  to  his  memory.  It 's  natural  you 
should  feel  a  little  sore  on  the  subject,  but 
it  should  n't  make  you  try  to  prejudice  her. " 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing.  I  shall  only 
interfere  if  I  see  that  she  is  annoyed  and 
harassed  by  useless  persistency  on  your 
part." 

"Well,  we  may  differ  as  to  how  useful 
it  is.  I  hope  I  know  how  to  pay  my 
addresses  to  a  lady  without  making  myself 
disagreeable.  She  shan't  be  hurried;  I'll 
give  her  till  I  get  back  from  Kan'  City  to 
decide.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  should  n't  use 
your  influence  against  me  while  I  'm  gone. 
I  know  she  feels  bound  to  you  by  affection 
and  gratitude,  and  all  that,  —  though  as  to 
the  latter,  why,  if  it  comes  to  that,  I  '11  pay 
back  every  cent  she's  ever  cost  you." 

"  If  you  continue  to  talk  in  this  way  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  ask  you  to  leave  my 
room." 

"That's  set  your  back  up,  has  it?  No 
offence.  A  self-made  man  like  me  isn't  up 
to  all  your  fine  notions." 

"  No  man  can  be  more  self-made  than  I. " 


236          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"Well  —  well  —  I  meant  no  harm;  I'll 
be  proud  to  owe  you  something,  for  I 
respect  your  conduct;  but  you're  not  her 
legal  guardian, — she's  of  age;  she  must 
take  her  own  way  in  the  matter." 

"  I  do  not  call  it  letting  a  woman  take  her 
own  way  to  torment  her  into  marrying  you 
whether  she  wants  to  or  not." 

"I'm  only  coaxing  her  for  her  good,  and 
because  I  know  that  I  can  make  her  happy 
—  happier  than  she  ever  dreamed  of  before. 
Wait  till  you  're  in  love  yourself,  and  then 
we'll  see  what  you'll  stick  at." 

Arthur,  conscience-stricken  by  a  sudden 
rush  of  memory  which  made  him  see  himself 
caricatured,  as  it  were,  before  his  own  eyes, 
was  silent,  and  his  visitor  rose,  triumphant 
at  having  made  a  good  hit,  and  held  out  his 
hand  with  invincible  good-humor.  "  You 
mustn't  blame  me  for  doing  the  best  I  can 
for  myself." 

"Good-by,  and  don't  blame  me  if  you 
don't  succeed,"  said  Arthur,  taking  the 
proffered  hand ;  for  he  felt  it  would  be  foolish 
and  undignified  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  this 
man,  repugnant  as  was  his  presence  to  him, 
and  doubly  repugnant  the  idea  of  Ida  as 
his  wife.  Dear  little  Ida!  he  was  sincerely 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  237 

fond  of  her,  and,  he  hoped,  unselfishly  so. 
It  was  the  jarring  sense  of  impropriety  in 
this  business  that  hurt  him,  and  his  jeal- 
ousy, if  he  had  any,  was  for  his  brother's 
sake  and  her  own. 

He  could  not  trust  himself  to  go  near  her 
for  a  day  or  two.  When  he  did  go,  just 
before  tea,  he  found  her  little  parlor  fra- 
grant and  brilliant  with  costly  flowers,  and 
herself  looking  prettier  than  ever.  He 
thought  her  dressed  with  unwonted  care, 
though  she  had  not  added  to  or  taken  from 
her  usual  attire  by  a  single  thread;  but  there 
was  something  in  the  dainty  way  in  which 
her  deep  mourning  dress  was  put  on  beyond 
her  usual  matter-of-course  neatness;  and 
never  did  head-dress,  surely,  sit  so  exquis- 
itely as  that  little  tulle  cap  did  over  her 
golden  locks  —  just  as  much  less  abundant 
than  her  sister's  as  suited  her  slighter, 
smaller  frame  —  without  some  study  on  the 
wearer's  part  of  its  fitness  to  the  face  below. 
She  received  her  brother-in-law  with  all 
cordiality,  but  shyly,  something  as  she  had 
done  when  she  first  came  to  Newton,  before 
constant  intercourse  had  put  them  on  the 
easy  footing  of  family  life;  and  looking 
apologetically  at  the  flowers,  murmured  that 


238          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

she  was  very  much  surprised  when  they 
came.  The  children,  who  had  had  their  tea 
before  their  daily  governess  had  left,  now 
appeared,  loaded  with  new  toys,  and  with  an 
air  of  expectation  which  culminated  when 
Mr.  McCall  appeared.  He  was  very  carefully 
arrayed,  and  though  somewhat  taken  aback 
at  the  sight  of  Arthur  in  evening  dress, 
hastened  to  regain  his  command  of  the  situ- 
ation by  bringing  forward  the  large  basket 
which  he  carried,  with,  "  Here,  children, 
here  are  some  peaches  for  you;  I  remember 
your  mamma  does  not  approve  of  candy." 

"It  is  so  bad  for  their  teeth,"  said  Ida. 

"  It  would  be  a  shame  to  spoil  such  pretty 
teeth  as  Flossy's,"  said  Mr.  McCall,  paring 
a  peach  for  that  young  lady,  who  took  it  in 
the  daintiest  way;  for  even  greediness  with 
her  had  a  grace.  "  She  looks  just  like  you," 
went  on  the  lover,  admiringly. 

"  She  looks  much  more  like  her  Aunt 
Flora,  after  whom  she  is  named;  don't  you 
think  so?"  said  Ida,  appealing  to  Arthur, 
who  could  not  see  it.  He  was  fond  of 
Flossy,  who  was  a  winning  little  witch,  but 
surely  at  her  age  Flora  had  been  as  unique 
as  she  was  now. 

It  was  not  pleasant  to  him  to  make  a  third 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  239 

in  the  party,  after  the  children  had  gone  to 
bed,  though  Mr.  McCall  directed  most  of  his 
conversation  to  him.  Ida  said  very  little, 
but  bent  over  her  work  with  her  delicate 
blush-rose  tint  a  little  brighter  than  usual, 
answering  very  sweetly  when  spoken  to,  but 
seeming  well-pleased  to  listen  to  a  discourse 
on  politics  —  the  tariff  —  the  fall  elections 
—  anything  that  could  give  them  a  safe 
meeting-ground.  It  could  not  be  denied 
that  Mr.  McCall  spoke  with  good  sense  and 
moderation  on  all  these  topics,  nor  that  his 
manners,  in  the  presence  of  the  lady  of  his 
love,  had  less  of  self-assertion  than  when 
alone  with  her  brother-in-law.  As  for  her, 
the  wooer  had  nothing  to  complain  of,  whether 
she  intended  to  accept  or  reject  him  at  last. 
She  evidently  wished  Arthur  to  sit  him  out, 
and  he  on  his  part  made  no  objection,  for  he 
rose  and  took  his  leave  at  a  very  proper  early 
hour,  content  with  a  gracious  smile  and  a 
few  graceful  unmeaning  words  from  his 
hostess. 

"  I  am  sorry  he  will  keep  coming  in  this 
way,"  she  murmured,  when  he  was  out  of 
hearing. 

"  If  you  do  not  wish  him  to,  I  will  let 
him  know  that  it  is  unpleasant  to  you.  He 


240          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

is  not  so  ungentlemanly  as  to  persist  in  the 
face  of  your  positive  commands." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  could  not  do  that.  I  could 
not  bear  to  hurt  his  feelings  when  he  is  so 
kind ;  and  he  goes  out  to  Kansas  City  so  very 
soon  that  I  think  I  would  not  say  anything 
before  that.  That  will  put  an  end  to  it, 
most  likely."  She  paused,  and  as  Arthur 
said  nothing  she  added,  timidly,  "Don't  you 
think  he  is  a  very  intelligent  man,  as  well 
as  good -hearted  ?  " 

" He  seems  a  good  sort  of  man  enough." 
"  I  wish  he  had  not  taken  this  unfortunate 
—  liking  for  me  into  his  head.  I  do  hate 
so  much  to  make  him  unhappy!  If  Flora 
had  only  been  here,  he  would  have  fancied 
her  instead,  and  I  should  have  been  so  glad 
of  that !  He  would  have  been  just  the  hus- 
band I  should  have  been  proud  of  for  her!  " 
Then,  a  little  hurt  at  Arthur's  unresponsive- 
ness,  "  I  do  want  Flora  to  have  a  chance  to 
show  something  of  what  is  in  her!  She  is, 
really  and  truly,  a  very  remarkable  girl ! 
Dear  Orlando  always  said  so.  It  seems  to 
me  sometimes  as  if  she  were  wasted  where 
she  is ;  and  I,  who  am  not  nearly  so  fit  to 
have  things,  have  such  an  easy  life!" 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         241 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A  RTHUR,  for  the  next  three  weeks, 
•*•*•  played  the  part  of  a  passive  spectator 
of  Mr.  McCall's  courtship.  The  further 
inquiries  which  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  make 
were  so  satisfactorily  answered  that  he  had 
no  excuse  for  putting  forward  any  objections. 
Mr.  McCall  was  most  anxious  to  please  him, 
though  he  did  not  always  know  how  to  do 
so.  In  trying  to  please  Ida,  Arthur  had  to 
allow  that  he  showed  more  skill.  He  lav- 
ished most  of  his  direct  attentions  on  the 
children,  and  treated  her  with  punctilious 
respect,  while  sending  showers  of  flowers, 
fruit,  new  magazines,  and  every  pleasing 
trifle  which  she  could  not  refuse.  He  took 
Landy  and  Flossy  to  drive  with  his  sister- 
in-law,  a  powerful  ally,  and  sometimes,  but 
not  always,  asked  Mrs.  Butler  to  join  the 
party. 

He  evidently  made  no  more  proposals  till 
just  before  his  departure  for  Kansas  City; 
16 


242  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

but  at  Arthur's  first  call  after  this  he  found 
Ida  in  tears,  and  when  he  asked  the  reason,  — 

"  Mr.  McCall  was  here  to-day  to  say  good- 
by;  he  said  he  could  not  go  unless  he  had 
—  a  little  —  hope;  and — and  —  would  you 
feel  very  grieved,  Arthur  dear,  if  —  if  —  it 
came  to  anything?" 

"  I  should  have  no  right,  if  I  thought  it 
for  your  happiness;  if  I  were  sure  you  knew 
what  you  wanted." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ida,  confusedly  plait- 
ing the  ribbons  of  her  belt,  "I  don't  know 
as  my  happiness  is  of  so  much  consequence, 
and  he  loves  me  so  much !  He  says  he 
never  cared  for  any  woman  in  real  earnest 
before.  It  seems  cruel  to  blight  his  life, 
because  I  have  had  so  many  sorrows  of  my 
own.  Of  course,  you  don't  suppose  that  I 
can  ever  forget  dearest  Orlando,  or  cease  to 
love  him  and  respect  his  memory.  Mr. 
McCall  would  never  wish  for  that  —  he  is 
too  good.  He  is  not  a  bit  jealous,  and 
says  he  will  never  ask  me  to  give  up  caring. 
He  only  wants  me  to  marry  him,  and  says  he 
doesn't  care  for  anything  else;  he  says  he 
is  sure  I  shall  make  far  too  good  a  wife  for 
him  anyhow;"  and  the  faintest  of  smiles 
curled  her  pretty  lips  as  she  added,  "  I  wonder 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  243 

what  he  could  see  in  such  a  worn-out  old 
thing  as  I  am! " 

"Well,  my  dear  Ida,  I  suppose  by  this 
that  you  gave  him  some  reason  to  hope." 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Ida,  blushing;  "I 
told  him  I  couldn't  decide  so  quickly;  and 
he  said  he  would  wait  till  he  came  back  for 
my  answer;  but  —  but  —  when  he  does  come 
back,  I  suppose  he  will  be  very  anxious; 
and  —  and  —  " 

"  You  must  not  consider  him  only  in  this 
matter." 

"But  it  would  be  such  a  good  thing  for 
the  children ;  he  would  be  such  a  father  to 
them  1  I  don't  forget  —  I  appreciate  fully  — 
all  you  have  done  for  them,  dearest  Arthur; 
it  was  a  great  deal  more  than  I  had  any  right 
to  expect,  and  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  have 
let  you  —  " 

"Ida,  if  you  really  feel  —  I  won't  say 
gratitude,  for  I  don't  deserve  it  —  but  if  you 
feel  any  affection  for  me,  you  will  not  allow 
such  a  consideration  to  influence  you  for  a 
moment.  I  cannot  find  words  strong  enough 
to  tell  you  how  utterly  you  mistake  me  if 
you  do ;  but  you  wrong  yourself  terribly,  if 
you  let  it  affect  your  decision  in  the  slight- 
est degree." 


244          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"  Mr.  McCall  says  you  ought  to  be  think- 
ing of  getting  married  yourself." 

"If  I  ever  marry,  which  is  certainly  not 
likely  at  present,  I  shall  have  enough  to 
provide  for  all;  and  I  shall  never  have  a 
wife  who  will  interfere  with  my  duty  to  you, 
or  even  wish  to  do  so." 

"  Such  girls  are  not  very  common.  To 
be  sure,  I  don't  expect  you  to  get  a  wife  who 
is  quite  good  enough  for  you." 

"You  are  partial,  my  dear  child;  but  sis- 
ters are  privileged  in  that  way.  As  to  your 
own  affairs,  all  I  have  to  say  is  that  I  have 
nothing  against  Mr.  McCall,  and  I  have  no 
right  to  advise  you ;  but  this  much  I  will  say, 
that  you  must  not  marry  him  unless  you  like 
him  well  enough." 

Another  bright  blush  on  Ida's  face  almost 
made  words  superfluous,  but  she  was  not 
used  to  keep  Arthur  waiting  for  an  answer, 
and  she  said  resignedly,  "  You  surely  don't 
dislike  him? " 

"I?  no;  but  that  is  not  the  point." 

"There  is  a  great  deal  in  him  to  like, 
don't  you  think  so?  All  his  family  are  so 
fond  of  him ;  and  Lucy,  I  mean  Mrs.  Anson 
McCall,  says  he  is  as  good  through  and 
through  as  he  seems  at  first  sight."  She 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          245 

opened  a  velvet  case  on  her  writing-table 
and  took  out  a  photograph.  "  He  had  that 
taken  to  give  me  when  he  left;  don't  you 
like  it?" 

"Very  good  indeed." 

"I  don't  suppose  he  is  what  you  would 
call  handsome;  but  I  never  cared  for  that, 
and  I  do  think  he  is  very  fine-looking.  He 
wanted  mine  so  much  that  I  gave  him  one 
like  that  I  had  taken  to  send  Flora;  you 
don't  think  that  was  wrong,  do  you?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"  He  said  he  could  not  live  till  he  came 
back,  without  one." 

"By  the  bye,  what  does  your  sister  say 
about  it  ?  "  said  Arthur,  who  had  not  read 
Flora's  last  few  letters.  He  had  not  found 
Ida  reading  one,  and  he  never  asked  directly 
for  them. 

"Flora?  oh,  she  does  not  know.  I  never 
thought  of  mentioning  him  at  first,  and  now 
I  don't  think  it  best  to  tell  her  till  I  can 
tell  her  something  a  little  more  decided.  I 
hope  Flora  won't  mind,  and  I  do  hope  she  '11 
be  willing  to  live  with  me,  as  he  wishes. 
He  is  sure  he  shall  be  very  fond  of  her." 

"How  is  she?  What  does  she  say  in  her 
last  letters  ?  " 


246          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"Oh —  nothing  particular.  She  is  very 
well.  Would  there  be  any  harm,  do  you 
think,  in  my  answering  Mr.  McCall's  letters, 
while  he  is  away?  " 

"  No,  you  could  not  write  a  letter  which 
it  would  do  you  any  harm  to  have  seen." 

"  Of  course  I  shall  write  only  as  a 
friend,"  said  Ida,  satisfied;  "he  has  prom- 
ised me  to  say  nothing  of  his  proposals  till 
he  comes  back." 

The  weeks  of  Mr.  McCall's  absence 
seemed  to  be  regarded  by  her  somewhat  in 
the  light  of  a  respite;  but  Arthur  did  not 
expect  that  another  would  be  asked  or 
granted,  and  was  not  surprised  when  they 
were  over  to  receive  the  following  note : 

NEWTON  CENTRE,  Oct.  25,  188-. 
DEAR  MR.  BUTLER,  —  I  am  proud  and  delighted 
to  inform  you  of  my  engagement  to  your  lovely 
sister.  Ida  wishes  me  to  write  you  the  news  at 
once,  and  excuse  her  for  not  doing  so  herself;  but 
she  will  be  glad  to  have  you  call  as  soon  as  you 
can.  I  am  most  deeply  sensible  of  the  kindness 
you  have  shown  her  and  the  children,  and  hope  to 
be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  brother  by  you.  As 
I  expect  to  see  you  soon,  and  tell  you  all  our  plans, 
no  more  at  present  from 

Your  ever  grateful  and  affectionate 

HAMLIN  B.  McCALL. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          247 

Arthur  went  out  to  the  cottage,  and  was 
received  by  Ida  alone,  all  smiles  and  tears, 
but  with  the  former  predominating.  "  Oh, 
Arthur  —  you  don't  mind;  you  are  pleased, 
are  you  not  ? " 

"  Surely  I  am,  if  you  are. " 

"  I  can't  help  it,  when  every  one  else  is  so 
happy.  The  children,  poor  little  things, 
are  wild  with  joy.  He  has  just  gone  out  to 
walk  with  them,  because  he  thought  I  would 
rather  see  you  alone  first ;  he  is  so  considerate. 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  feel  just  as 
much  your  sister  as  ever,  and  I  hope  you  will 
still  feel  that  you  are  my  brother;  you  have 
been  a  better  one  than  many  a  real  one." 

"Do  not  say  such  things;  I  don't  deserve 
them." 

"  I  must  —  and  I  am  sure  Mr.  McCall 
agrees  with  me  most  fully;  and  I  want  to 
tell  you,  too,  that  I  shall  never  forget  or 
cease  to  love  my  dear  husband.  I  shall 
never  leave  this  off, " —  she  looked  at  her  deli- 
cate little  hand,  where  an  immense  solitaire 
diamond  blazed  above  the  slender  gold  line 
of  her  marriage  ring,  — "but  oh,  I  do  think 
that  where  he  is,  he  is  glad  that  his  wife 
and  children  should  be  so  cared  for,  so  cher- 
ished. He  never  had  any  jealousy  either." 


248  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"  Well,  you  have  chosen,  Ida,  and  I  hope 
for  the  best.  I  can  only  say,  God  bless 
you!  I  shall  miss  you;  but  we  will  not  talk 
of  that,"  he  added  more  cheerfully,  as  the 
tears  that  were  gathering  in  Ida's  lovely 
eyes,  threatened  to  overflow. 

"  Oh,  there  he  comes  with  the  children, 
and  I  had  so  much  more  to  say  to  you !  I 
must  see  you  alone  again.  Stay  after  he 
goes  away,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"If  possible,  I  will,"  said  Arthur,  as  the 
door  opened,  and  the  children  rushed  up  to 
him.  He  was  no  longer  the  first  object  of 
their  attention,  but  they  were  delighted  to 
see  him,  and  to  inform  him  that  they  were 
going  to  have  a  "new  papa."  Ida,  at  this, 
put  on  a  look  a  little  like  one  of  her  sister's, 
to  which  Mr.  McCall  responded  with,  "I 
hope  I  '11  always  be  a  good  father  to  them; 
if  being  as  fond  of  them  as  one  will  do  it, 
I  shall.  If  you  '11  consent  to  it,"  to  Ida,  "  I 
will  adopt  them  legally,  and  give  them  my 
name  from  the  day  we're  married." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ida,  "but  I  would 
rather  my  children  should  keep  their  father's 
name ;  "  and  she  swept  onward  to  the  lunch 
table,  now  ready  in  the  dining-room  for  the 
early  dinner,  with  an  accession  of  dignity, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          249 

which  heightened  her  lover's  admiration, 
while  it  amused  Arthur,  who  augured  a 
beneficial  training  in  the  matrimonial  school 
for  the  worthy  Kansas  Citizen,  who  was 
evidently  on  his  best  behavior,  and  painfully 
anxious  to  improve. 

The  elders  were  all  so  silent  that  the 
lunch-party  would  have  been  a  quiet  one  but 
for  the  children.  Even  the  demure  little 
middle-aged  governess  was  lamenting  the 
probable  loss  of  a  good  place,  and  trying  to 
make  up  her  mind  whether  or  not  to  accept 
Mr.  McCall's  amazing  offer  to  take  her  with 
them  to  Kansas  City,  since  Mrs.  Butler  and 
the  children  were  so  fond  of  her,  and  it 
would  be  such  an  opportunity  for  her.  "  It 
would  be  a  swell  thing  to  have  a  governess," 
he  informed  Ida,  in  private,  "and  there's 
no  reason  why  she  shouldn't  get  a  husband 
out  there.  She  ain't  so  very  old,  nor  bad- 
lookin',  either." 

When  she  had  borne  off  the  children  after 
lunch,  Ida  said  quietly  to  her  betrothed: 
"  I  should  like  to  see  Arthur  alone  a  few 
moments  before  he  goes  back  to  town,  Mr. 
McCall.  There  is  a  little  business  I  want 
to  speak  to  him  about." 

"All   right,"   replied  Mr.   McCall;  "I'll 


250         BROTHERS  AND  STRAArGERS. 

go  round  to  Anson's  for  a  minute  or  two. 
You  see,  Arthur,  I  ain't  jealous  of  leaving 
her  with  a  handsome  young  man.  Now,  in 
return  for  that  pretty  speech  I  expect  you 
to  help  me  persuade  her  to  set  the  day  just 
as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  cannot  say  anything  about  that  till  I 
have  told  my  sister,"  said  Ida. 

"Well  then,  do  hurry  up  and  tell  her," 
said  the  lover,  going  into  the  hall  for  his 
hat;  and  returning  to  say  at  the  door,  "and 
hurry  up  your  talk  too,  for  I  '11  be  back  at 
half-past  three  with  a  buggy  to  give  you  a 
ride,  little  madam!" 

"Yes,  I  will  be  ready,"  said  Ida,  and  as 
he  departed,  with  a  lingering  look  behind, 
she  went  on :  "  It  is  about  Flora  that  I 
wanted  to  speak  to  you.  She  doesn't  know 
yet,  and  I  don't  quite  know  how  to  tell  her. 
I  don't  know  how  she  will  feel,  — that  is,  I 
am  afraid  she  will  feel  excited,  troubled 
about  it." 

"  Why  should  she  ?  " 

"I  don't  know;  but  she  will  think  —  she 
was  so  fond  of  Orlando;  she  will  feel  very 
unhappy,  I  am  afraid." 

"  You  must  write  to  her,  and  explain  all 
your  reasons,  and  she  will  surely  not  — 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          251 

"Oh,  but  she  can't  understand!  I  don't 
know  how  to  make  her;  I  have  begun  several 
letters,  and  torn  them  all  up! " 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  did  not  tell  her  sooner, 
is  it  not?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  now  it  is;  but  I  did 
not  think  of —  I  was  not  sure  of  it;  and 
I  thought  there  was  no  use  in  worrying  her 
when  things  were  so  uncertain." 

"  But  if  she  knows  how  good  a  thing  it  is 
for  you  and  that  you  are  happy,  surely  she 
will  not  object." 

"  You  don't  know  Flora !  " 

Both  were  silent  for  a  moment,  till  Ida, 
looking  timidly  up,  said,  "  I  cannot  tell  how 
to  write  to  her,  and  I  thought  —  " 

"  Well !  "  said  Arthur,  encouragingly, 
"what  did  you  think?" 

"That  perhaps  —  perhaps  — you  would 
write,"  said  Ida,  looking  pleadingly  at  him. 
"  I  am  sure  you  could  make  her  understand 
a  great  deal  better  than  I.  Tell  her  I  love 
her  so  much,  just  as  much  as  I  ever  did; 
and  that  I  shall  never  forget  dear  Orlando, 
but  that  I  did  not  think  I  ought  to  refuse 
to  make  some  one  else  happy.  And  tell  her 
that  I  am  —  I  mean,  that  I  could  be  happy 
myself  if  I  were  sure  that  she  was.  Tell 


252          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

her  that  you  approve  —  I  mean  that  you 
don't  mind  it  much;  she  will  think  a  great 
deal  of  that." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  write  all  this  to 
her,"  said  Arthur;  "but  if  you  like,  Ida,  I 
will  go  and  tell  her  myself." 

"Will  you, — oh,  will  you?  How  good, 
how  more  than  good  you  are !  Then  you  can 
see  if  she  minds  it  very  much;  if  she  does," 
and  her  tears  began  to  stream  again,  "  I  don't 
know  how  I  am  ever  to  go  through  with  it 
myself." 

"  I  will  tell  her  all  I  can ;  and  I  can  see 
my  mother  at  the  same  time,  if  you  wish." 

"Oh,  thank  you;  though  I  know  dear 
mother  will  not  object.  She  will  be  glad  we 
are  so  well  taken  care  of.  Tell  her  that  Mr. 
McCall  is  a  member  of  a  Baptist  church.  I 
hope  she  will  not  mind  my  going  with  him 
most  of  the  time;  he  does  n't  expect  me  to 
join  it.  I  told  him  I  could  never  leave  my 
own."  She  stopped  in  her  eager  flow  of 
talk,  and  then  with  a  sudden  access  of  shy- 
ness :  "  Flora  is  going  to  spend  next  Sunday 
at  mother's.  If  you  could  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  go  then  very  well. " 

"I  know  Flora  will  think  it  is  so  soon; 
but  then  she  has  n't  been  here  and  does  n't 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          253 

know.  Mr.  McCall  was  so  hasty;  but  he 
says  he  had  to  speak,  he  couldn't  help  it. 
But  tell  her  I  cannot  think  of  marrying  yet, 
unless  she  thinks  it  is  proper." 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  McCall  is  in  a  hurry  to 
have  the  time  set  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  he  says  he  can  only  stay  here 
six  weeks  now,  and  must  run  back  to  Kansas 
City  in  the  midst  of  it  at  any  rate.  He 
wants  me  to  go  back  with  him  before  Christ- 
mas ;  he  must  be  there  after  that,  but  I  told 
him  I  never,  never  could  unless  you  thought 
it  right;  and  I  want  Flora  satisfied  too,  I 
can't  bear  that  she  should  think  —  Oh,  there 
he  is !  I  must  hurry  and  get  my  hat.  Do, 
Arthur,  wait  till  I  come  down." 

She  tripped  off,  appearing  again  in  a  few 
moments,  younger  and  prettier  even  than 
when  she  went  upstairs,  so  much  did  every 
change  in  her  dress  tell ;  and  now  she  had 
divested  her  hat  of  its  crape,  and  advanced 
to  the  startling  novelty  of  a  violet  ker- 
chief round  her  throat.  Arthur  walked  out 
to  the  gate  with  her  and  helped  her  in,  and 
as  he  carefully  tucked  in  the  carriage  rug 
over  her  dress,  she  bent  forward  with  a 
smile,  and  "Give  my  very  best  love  to  dear- 
est Flora!  "  and  then  whirled  away,  behind  a 


254          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

fast  trotting  horse,  while  Arthur  stood  looking 
after  them.  "  Poor  Orlando !  "  he  thought ; 
and  then  he  remembered  how  presumptuous 
he  had  thought  his  brother  in  appropriating 
Ida  at  seventeen.  Why  should  he  not  take 
this  common-sense  view  of  the  question 
now? 

The  betrothed  pair,  meanwhile,  were 
driving  through  the  shady  Newton  roads, 
now  radiant  in  their  autumn  colors,  and  Mr. 
McCall  had  begun  with,  "  How  perfectly 
beautiful  you  look  to  day!"  He  was  in  the 
habit  of  making  such  remarks,  and  Ida, 
though  a  little  ashamed  of  herself,  could 
not  but  own  that  she  did  not  dislike  them. 
Both  Ida  and  Flora  knew  of  their  beauty, 
as  they  knew  their  height  and  weight,  or 
any  other  physical  trait;  but  they  had  too 
little  of  the  quality  of  self-absorption  to 
let  the  fact  linger  in  their  minds,  whose 
outlook  on  the  world  was  all  extrospective, 
to  coin  a  word.  Still,  no  woman  but  enjoys 
a  man's  sincere  admiration  of  her  looks. 
Ida's  first  brief  courtship  had  been  enliv- 
ened by  few  such  passages,  Orlando's  love 
having  been  of  the  kind  that  does  not  clothe 
itself  in  compliment,  and  her  wedding  a 
hurried,  unadorned  piece  of  business.  She 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          255 

had  never  learned  coquetry,  and  now  an- 
swered in  a  matter  of  fact  way :  "  It  must  be 
because  I  have  put  on  a  violet  scarf  for 
the  first  time." 

"Nonsense!  and  yet,  now  I  look  at  it,  it 
is  mighty  becoming.  I  remember,  the  first 
time  I  saw  you,  I  thought  there  was  never 
anything  so  stunning  as  you  were  in  your 
mourning,  but  now  I  sort  of  long  to  see  you 
in  colors.  You  must  have  no  end  of  gowns, 
so  I  can  decide  which  becomes  you  best; 
and  speaking  of  clothes,  Ida,  you  can  draw 
on  me  to  any  extent,  at  any  time  —  you 
know  that." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ida;  "I  prefer  that 
you  should  not  give  me  my  clothes  at  pres- 
ent. Arthur  has  never  grudged  me  anything 
suitable  yet,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  he  will 
do  so  now." 

"Well  done,  little  madam!  it  is  worth 
making  a  blunder  to  set  you  up  a  bit.  Let 
Arthur  pay  your  bills,  then;  it  will  show 
him  what  he 's  got  before  him  when  he 
marries.  Was  that  what  you  were  talking 
so  long  about?  " 

"  No ;  there  is  no  hurry  about  that,  yet. 
I  was  telling  Arthur  how  much  I  hated 
writing  to  Flora,  and  I  said  I  wished  he 


256  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

would;  and  he  —  was  n't  he  kind?  —  offered 
to  go  himself  and  tell  her." 

"Whew— w— w!"  whistled  Mr.  McCall; 
"he  knows  what  he's  about,  doesn't  he? 
Making  up  to  your  sister,  that's  plain." 

Ida's  blue  eyes  grew  round  with  a  stare  of 
unaffected  surprise.  "What!  Flora!"  she 
exclaimed.  "  Oh,  no,  I  don't  believe  Arthur 
ever  had  any  thoughts  of  her.  He  has  seen 
so  much  of  the  world.  Flora  and  I  were 
only  little  country  girls  to  him.  He  will 
want  to  marry  some  Boston  young  lady, 
with  family  and  position,  and  very  brilliant 
and  cultivated." 

"Well,  then,  he'd  be  a  fool,  that's  all 
that  I  can  say,  and  a  snob  into  the  bargain ; 
and  I  don't  think  he  's  that,  though  he  has  a 
pretty  good  conceit  of  himself.  I  thought 
at  first  it  was  you  he  had  in  his  mind,  he 
was  so  confounded  stiff  when  I  began  on 
the  subject  with  him;  and  I  was  jealous,  I 
can  tell  you.  But  I  'd  be  very  glad  to  have 
your  sister  marry  him,  though  I  did  mean  to 
fit  her  out  in  style  myself.  You'll  see  if 
I  'm  not  right,"  as  Ida  shook  her  head, 
smilingly  unconvinced. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         257 


CHAPTER   XV. 

r  I  ""HE  Friday  night  train  for  Syracuse  was 
-*•  detained  on  the  road,  and  it  was  broad 
daylight  before  Arthur  traversed  the  scene 
of  his  terrible  search  little  more  than  a  year 
ago,  now  settled  down  into  commonplace 
oblivion,  without  a  trace  of  the  agony  that 
had  passed  there.  Where  was  there  a  trace  ? 
A  little  still  lingered  in  Ida's  black  attire, 
spite  of  violet  ribbons;  and  the  tightening 
of  his  throat,  as  he  passed  the  indelibly 
imprinted  scene,  told  him,  and  he  was  not 
sorry,  that  he  should  carry  one  as  long  as  he 
lived. 

He  did  not  reach  his  mother's  house  till 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  — to  find  it 
locked  and  barred.  The  place  looked  unlike 
any  of  his  recollections  of  it,  bearing  tokens 
of  the  skill  with  which  Mrs.  Rand,  an  effi- 
cient, bustling  dame,  administered  Mrs.  But- 
ler's allowance.  The  house  was  neat,  and  the 
garden  trim.  Some  one  must  soon  come 
home,  and  he  sat  down  on  the  well-known 
17 


258  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

bench  on  the  kitchen-door  porch,  with  the 
autumn  wind  blowing  the  red  falling  leaves 
of  the  Virginia  creeper  about  him.  There 
were  too  many  memories  rising  here,  too,  to 
make  the  hour  of  waiting  a  cheerful  one. 
Every  now  and  then  the  scurrying  leaves,  as 
they  pattered  along  the  garden  path,  startled 
him  like  a  coming  tread;  but  gradually,  as 
thoughts  grew  deeper,  he  ceased  to  notice 
them,  till,  when  they  rustled  with  the  light 
but  measured  sound  that  responds  to  a  real 
footfall,  and  Flora  appeared  coming  alone 
around  the  corner  of  the  house,  he  was 
almost  as  much  surprised  as  she  was.  Their 
eyes  met  for  a  moment  in  an  eager  look  of 
glad  recognition,  too  brief,  too  costly  for 
the  price  that  must  be  paid  down  for  it  upon 
the  spot ;  for  Flora  in  another  instant  grew 
deadly  pale,  and  gasped  out,  "  Ida !  you  have 
come  to  tell  me  that  something  has  hap- 
pened to  Ida! " 

"Ida  is  well,  — well  and  happy.  I  swear 
she  was  when  I  left  her,  and  that  was  only 
day  before  yesterday.  Do  believe  me;  you 
must  believe  me." 

"  The  children,  —  is  anything  the  matter 
with  the  children?" 

"No,    nothing — nothing;"    and   as    she 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          2$<) 

sank  down  on  the  bench  from  which  he  had 
just  risen,  her  heart  beating  so  that  he  could 
hear  it,  "  What  have  I  done,  —  how  can  I 
have  looked  to  give  you  such  a  terrible 
fright?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  so  foolish,  but  some- 
thing made  me  think  of  —  that  last  time  you 
came;  and  I  don't  know  why,  I  could  not 
help  feeling  that  you  had  something  to  tell 
me." 

"  Cannot  I  tell  you  anything  you  would 
like  to  hear,  then?"  he  asked;  but  he  was 
bitterly  ashamed  of  himself  as  he  watched 
her  trembling  subside,  and  a  delicate  flush 
rise  on  her  cheek,  just  enough  to  tempt  him 
to  go  on;  he  could  not  while  his  untold 
secret  lay  heavy  on  his  heart,  and  it  was 
mean,  meaner  than  he  could  stoop  to  be, 
to  play  on  her  hopes  and  fears  to  win  assur- 
ance for  himself.  She  tried  with  a  still 
shaking  hand  to  put  the  key  she  carried  into 
the  keyhole,  but  failed,  and  he  took  it  from 
her,  and  opening  the  door,  followed  her 
into  the  now  darkening  house,  and  through 
the  passage  into  the  parlor,  and  watched  her, 
while  with  steadier  movement  she  struck 
a  match,  and  lighted  the  lamp.  She  turned 
to  look  at  him  afresh  in  the  growing  glow. 


26O          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"There  is  something  —  I  am  sure  there  is 
something,"  she  said,  again  apprehensive. 
"Do  tell  me,  and  I  shall  not  be  so  silly. 
Surely,  surely,  nothing  can  have  happened 
to  you  ? "  and  she  regarded  him  with  fixed 
anxious  attention,  as  if,  sound  and  strong  as 
he  stood  before  her,  he  might  be  hiding  the 
loss  of  an  eye,  or  a  limb. 

"It  is  I  who  am  silly,  perhaps,"  he  said, 
"  to  make  such  a  mystery  of  what,  after  all,  is 
a  very  natural,  harmless  piece  of  news; 
but  Ida,  somehow,  felt  some  hesitation  in 
telling  you,  and  asked  me;  and  I  thought  I 
would  rather  see  you  than  write."  ("Why 
the  devil  can't  I  get  it  out?  "  he  thought,  as 
he  looked  at  her  widening  eyes  and  parted 
lips,  of  solemn  expectation  more  than  fear, 
like  a  child  listening  to  a  thunder  peal.) 
"You  must  remember,"  he  went  on,  "that 
your  sister  is  still  young,  and  has  a  great  deal 
of  her  life  before  her;  and  how  shut  up  she 
has  always  been.  She  has  regained  so  much 
of  her  health  and  strength  —  you  would  be 
surprised  to  see  how  well  she  looks  now.  I 
ought  not  to  have  been  astonished,  though 
I  confess  I  was,  but  it  is  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  that  she  should  want  to 
marry  again. " 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.         261 

"  She  cannot !  I  am  sure  she  would  never 
dream  of  such  a  thing!  " 

"  She  would  not,  of  course,  unless  her 
hand  had  been  earnestly  asked  for  by  a  man 
whom  she  has  every  reason  to  believe  sin- 
cerely attached  to  her,  and  deserving  of  a 
return. "  Then,  as  she  looked  at  him  with  her 
incredulity  merging  into  dawning  horror: 
"  I  am  only  telling  you  the  truth.  God 
knows  it  is  hard  enough  for  me,  if  it  makes 
you  unhappy." 

"How  could  she?  Oh,  how  could  she?" 
moaned  the  girl,  twisting  her  hands  together, 
and  rocking  back  and  forth  in  tearless  agony. 

"  Don't  —  pray,  don't  feel  it  so  terribly. 
Dearest  Flora,  don't  —  for  my  sake  —  I  can- 
not bear  it." 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Flora,  trying  to  stop 
the  restless  motion  of  her  hands,  "you  can't 
help  it.  You  are  very  kind;  but  I  could  not 
believe  you  at  first.  I  have  heard  of  women 
doing  such  things,  but  I  never  believed 
one  really  could ;  and  I  never  thought  that 
one  would  be  Ida.  Oh,  Ida!  Ida!"  she 
repeated  in  a  less  constrained  voice;  and  as 
a  heavy  burst  of  tears  made  its  way,  she 
seemed  somewhat  relieved,  for  her  nervous 
motion  ceased,  and  she  sat,  her  face  buried 


262  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

in  her  hands,  quite  still,  except  for  the  long- 
drawn  sobs  that  shook  her  when  they  came. 
He  sat  by  her,  his  own  heart  swelling,  and 
feeling  as  if  he  would  gladly  tear  it  out  if  it 
would  do  her  any  good.  He  longed  to  take 
her  in  his  arms  and  comfort  her,  but  he 
could  not  even  touch  her.  Suddenly  she 
raised  her  head.  "  Perhaps  when  she  thinks 
it  over,  she  will  see  how  wrong  it  is,  and 
give  it  up." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  late ;  her  word  is 
given,  and  everything  will  soon  be  arranged." 

"  And  to  think  of  Orlando !  —  Orlando,  of 
all  men!  to  be  forgotten,  not  cared  for  — 
how  could  she,  how  could  any  one  ?  " 

"  You  should  not  think  so  hardly  of  her. 
She  has  not  forgotten  Orlando.  She  told 
me  she  should  never  cease  to  remember  him 
and  love  him." 

"  Love  him !  How  can  she  love  him  ?  A 
woman  cannot  have  two  husbands !  " 

"You  told  me  once  how  Orlando  loved 
her;  do  you  think  he  would  have  wanted  to 
have  her  unhappy  all  her  life  about  him?  " 

"  She  need  not  have  been  unhappy ;  it  is 
not  long  to  wait ;  and  then,  there  were  the 
children.  Oh,  those  children!  How  can  she 
marry  another  man,  who  is  not  their  father]  " 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.          263 

"  Indeed,  I  think  the  children  will  be 
very  well  and  kindly  cared  for.  I  could 
not  have  consented  if  I  had  not  felt  sure  of 
that." 

"  Did  she  ask  you  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  did ;  but  I  saw  that  I  could  not 
prevent  it  without  using  more  opposition 
than  I  felt  to  be  right.  She  is  of  age,  and 
I  have  no  authority  over  her.  She  must 
decide  such  an  important  matter  for  herself, 
when  she  once  knows  all  the  reasons  for  and 
against  it ;  and  I  had  no  real  reason  to  give 
against  it.  Nobody  holds  second  marriage 
to  be  a  crime.  You  must  consider,  as  I 
said,  that  there  is  nothing  unnatural  in  any 
man's  loving  Ida,  and  nothing  wrong  in 
her  returning  it." 

"  If  you  were  married, "  burst  out  Flora, 
with  one  of  those  rare  lightning  flashes  from 
her  eyes  that  seemed  to  dry  up  her  tears  in 
a  moment;  "would  you  like  to  think  of  your 
wife  doing  such  a  thing?" 

"No,  by  God!"  he  exclaimed  instinc- 
tively, her  beautiful  face,  dazzling  in  its 
pallor,  forcing  the  words  from  his  mouth ;  "  it 
would  make  me  turn  in  my  grave  to  think 
of  it !  "  Then,  his  excitement  urging  him  on : 
"But  you  would  never  do  it." 


264          BROTHERS  AND  STRAXGERS. 

"No,"  said  Flora,  "I  never  could."  She 
spoke  seriously,  with  as  little  thought  of  any 
personal  application  of  her  words  as  if  he 
and  she  were  already  disembodied  spirits; 
"but  I  should  never  have  thought  that  Ida 
could.  It  seems  as  if  anything  might  happen 
now."  She  was  silent  a  moment,  her  hands 
moving  restlessly  again,  like  one  burning 
with  fever.  "  If  I  had  only  been  with  her 
she  never,  never  would,  I  know!  I  could 
not  go  —  how  could  I?" 

"  You  must  not  mind  that  so  much.  Sup- 
pose you  had  been  with  her,  this  particular 
thing  might  not  have  happened  ;  but  she 
would  have  been  capable  of  it,  all  the  same. 
It 's  the  being  able  to  do  a  thing,  not  so  much 
the  doing  it,  that  makes  character ;  we  have 
not  much  to  be  thankful  for  if  lack  of 
opportunity  be  all." 

Flora  looked  up  doubtfully,  as  if  inclined 
to  question  this;  but  the  sight  of  tears  in 
Arthur's  eyes  checked  her.  It  was  the  only 
thing  he  could  do  for  her,  but  he  could  have 
done  nothing  better;  and  hers  flowed  again 
as  she  said :  — 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  she  could  have 
done  it  while  she  had  you ;  she  was  always 
writing  about  you,  and  all  you  did  for  her, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          26$ 

and  how  good  you  were.  She  did  not  seem 
to  miss  me  as  much  as  I  had  been  afraid  she 
would;  but  I  never  dreamed  of  this.  I  do 
not  think  she  did  just  right  to  you  when  you 
had  been  so  very  good  to  her;  and  then,  to 
take  the  children  away  from  you,  when  you 
had  once  had  them  !  You  might  have  felt  a 
little  hurt  for  yourself." 

"So  I  did,"  said  Arthur,  frankly,  "but  it 
would  have  been  selfish  to  have  let  that 
affect  me.  If  it  had  not  been  for  my  know- 
ing it  I  might  have  advised  Ida  more 
strongly  against  this  marriage;  and  yet,  I 
don't  think  that  would  have  made  any  differ- 
ence in  the  end.  You  must  remember  that 
this  has  been  coming  on  me  gradually,  not 
suddenly,  as  it  has  on  you.  I  do  think  that 
Ida  ought  to  have  given  you  some  hint,  at 
least,  before  she  made  up  her  mind,  and 
saved  you  the  shock." 

"  No  —  it  does  not  matter.  I  should  have 
tried  to  do  something,  then,  and  very  likely 
done  something  wrong,  and  it  might  have 
been  of  no  use,  after  all.  I  don't  seem  to 
understand  how  Ida  feels  about  it,  or  what 
she  thinks.  She  is  like  a  stranger,  and  not 
Ida." 

"  I  do  not   in  the  least  suppose  that  she 


266          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

would  have  married  again,  certainly  not  so 
soon,  if  Mr.  McCall  had  not  been  so  very 
determined  to  have  her." 

"Is  that  his  name?"  asked  Flora,  with  a 
shudder,  as  if  some  noxious  animal  were  in 
question. 

"  Yes,  and  he  is  a  very  worthy,  kind- 
hearted  man.  He  can  give  your  sister  many 
more  advantages  than  I  can.  It  was  partly 
the  consciousness  of  this  that  kept  me  from 
showing  any  wounded  feelings  I  might  have 
—  for  I  was  hurt,  I  confess,"  he  added, 
smiling. 

The  confession  seemed  to  please  her,  and 
she  said  with  gratitude  in  her  look:  "I  am 
glad  you  minded  it  too.  I  don't  mean  to 
be  selfish,  and  I  want  —  I  do  want  to  have 
Ida  happy;  but  I  do  not  feel  as  if  this  could 
ever  be  right.  I  hope,"  she  went  on  anx- 
iously, "  that  she  said  —  that  she  knows  how 
much  she  owes  to  you. " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  they  have  both  said  all  that 
was  proper  for  them  to  say,  and  more  than 
I  deserved  or  expected,  —  more  than  I  wanted ; 
but  I  am  sure  he  is  a  well-meaning  man,  if 
he  does  not  always  suit  me  in  everything. 
I  am  sure,  very  sure,  he  will  be  good  to  her 
and  the  children ;  and  as  to  you,  he  is  most 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          267 

anxious  to  be  a  friend  to  you.  He  wants 
you  to  come  and  live  with  them,  and  be  like 
his  own  sister,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he 
means  it." 

"I  cannot  do  that." 

"  Ida  wishes  it  so  much.  I  think  she  will 
be  very  unhappy  if  you  do  not  come.  I  do 
believe  she  loves  you  better  than  anything 
else  in  the  world." 

"I  cannot  do  it." 

"  She  sent  you  more  love  than  I  can  find 
time  to  give  you,  I  fear;  and  now  she  will 
write  herself  directly,  as  soon  as  she  knows 
you  have  heard ; "  and  as  she  made  no  reply : 
"  It  pains  me  more  than  I  can  say  to  give 
you  pain,  but  it  would  not  be  right  not  to 
tell  y»u  that  she  and  Mr.  McCall  both  want 
you  to  give  up  your  school  immediately  and 
come  to  them.  He  will  gladly  pay  any  sum 
required  to  supply  your  place  till  the  end  of 
the  term,  and  Ida  says  she  cannot  be  married 
unless  you  are  at  the  wedding,  and  that  she 
will  not  fix  the  time  until  she  hears  when 
you  can  come." 

"  I  cannot  come." 

"  Ida  will  be  very  much  grieved." 

"Oh!"  said  Flora,  with  a  long  sigh  of 
utter  exhaustion,  "  I  cannot  help  it !  I  have 


268          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

tried  and  tried  to  do  things,  but  there  was 
always  some  use  in  them ;  now  there  is  no 
use  in  anything.  Ida  does  not  really  need 
me  now.  Can't  you  —  won't  you  tell  her 
how  it  is,  and  that  I  do  love  her,  and  wish 
them  both  well  and  happy,  but  —  I  cannot 
live  with  them;  I  cannot  live  under  his 
roof  and  eat  his  bread." 

"Yes,  I  will  make  that  all  right;  don't 
trouble  yourself  about  it  any  more,"  he 
said,  alarmed  at  her  agitated  breath,  and  the 
throbbing  flush  that  came  and  went  on  her 
temples. 

"And  do  you  think  that  I  am  doing 
wrong? " 

"No,  indeed,  I  do  not."  Words  of  praise 
—  of  love  —  rose  to  his  lips ;  but  he  recog- 
nized the  fact  that  to  one  sick  at  heart, 
sugar-plums  were  loathsome.  "  I  understand 
perfectly  how  you  feel,  and  I  know  just  what 
you  want  me  to  say  to  Ida ;  you  may  set  your 
mind  at  rest  about  that.  There  is  my  mother 
at  the  gate  with  Mrs.  Rand;"  and  as  she 
looked  nervous  and  frightened:  "You  had 
better  go  upstairs  and  leave  me  to  see  her; 
go  to  bed,  and  don't  come  down  again 
to-night.  Your  head  aches  terribly,  I  am 
sure." 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          269 

"Yes,"  said  Flora,  putting  her  hand  to 
her  head,  mechanically,  "but  that  is  no 
matter. " 

"Do  go,"  he  repeated,  and  she  rose, 
instinctively  obedient,  and  with  a  languid 
"Thank  you"  dragged  herself  out  of  the 
room,  and  up  the  stairs,  before  the  elder 
women  bustled  in  from  the  sewing  society, 
laden  with  work-bags  and  cap-boxes. 


2/O          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

S.  BUTLER  had  no  reason  now  to 
dread  her  son's  appearance,  but  her 
greeting  was  confused,  perhaps  from  habit, 
and  he  thought,  or  fancied,  she  was  more 
slow  in  recovering  her  composure  than  for- 
merly. She  heard  his  news  with  some  little 
surprise,  but  with  satisfaction. 

"It  is  wonderful,"  she  said  with  fervor, 
"to  think  how  the  Lord  provides  for  the 
widow  and  orphan !  Poor,  dear  Orlando ! 
How  thankful  would  he  have  been  could  he 
have  been  spared  to  know  of  this !  Truly, 
we  may  say  with  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel, 
'  I  have  never  seen  the  righteous  forsaken, 
or  his  seed  lacking  bread.'  Where  is  Flora; 
has  she  not  come  yet?  You  say  he  wants 
her  to  live  with  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  offers  to  treat  her  like  a  sister 
of  his  own." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Butler,  wiping  her 
eyes,  "  I  shall  miss  dear  Flora,  but  I  would 
not  be  so  selfish  as  to  object  to  what  is  for 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          2/1 

her  good;  and  as  Mr. —  what  did  you  say 
his  name  was  ?  " 

"McCall,  —  Hamlin  McCall." 

"You  said  he  was  a  Christian,  did  you 
not?" 

"  I  don't  remember;  but  he  is  a  member  of 
a  Baptist  church,  if  that  makes  him  One." 

"  I  have  known  a  great  many  good  Bap- 
tists," said  Mrs.  Butler. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Rand,  "there's  good 
and  bad  in  them,  as  there  is  in  every 
denomination,  and  some  must  be  mighty 
good  to  make  up  for  the  others." 

Mrs.  Butler  seemed  to  shrink  from  some 
personal  application  in  these  words,  and 
said  meekly,  "Mr.  McCall  will  not  expect 
Ida  and  Flora  to  become  Baptists,  will  he?  " 

"No;  Ida  is  willing  to  attend  his  church 
with  him,  but  he  will  not  expect  her  to 
join  it." 

"The  girls  both  joined  their  father's 
church  when  they  were  very  young,  and  I 
don't  think  they  would  like  to  give  it  up. 
I  have  heard  Mr.  Shepherd  was  rather  lax; 
Dr.  Todd,  who  knew  about  him,  said  he 
even  doubted  the  eternal  punishment  of  the 
heathen;  many  Congregational  clergymen 
in  New  England  do,  I  hear.  But  Orlando 


2/2          BROTHERS  AND  STRAXGERS. 

always  said  a  better  Christian  than  Miss 
Esther  could  not  be,  and  I  am  sure  Flora  is 
one.  I  am  confident  that  prosperity  will 
not  spoil  her." 

"  Probably  not ;  as  she  does  not  intend  to 
accept  Mr.  McCall's  offer." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Butler,  amazed. 

"She  does  not  like  the  idea  of  Ida's 
marrying  again." 

"Dear  me!  dear  me!  that  is  very  singu- 
lar; surely  there  is  nothing  wrong  about  it. 
Saint  Paul  expressly  says  to  Timothy,  '  I 
will  that  the  younger  women  marry;'  and 
Dr.  Todd  says  th'at  the  context  shows  he 
included  widows." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Rand,  "you  and  I 
ain't  followed  Gospel  teachin',  then.  To 
be  sure,  I  was  gettin'  on  when  I  lost  Mr. 
Rand;  but  you  was  young  enough,  Mrs. 
Butler." 

"I  had  my  chances,"  said  Mrs.  Butler, 
bridling  a  little,  "and  some  good  ones;  but 
none  that  I  could  conscientiously  accept. 
Mr.  Montandon,  the  wealthy  butcher  from 
Utica,  wanted  to  marry  me,  and  was  most 
generous  in  his  offers;  but  he  was  a  Uni- 
versalist,  and  I  wouldn't  have  anything  to 
do  with  him  unless  he  became  a  Christian. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          2/3 

Then  Deacon  Hiland,  father  to  the  pres- 
ent deacon,  —  he  was  a  very  pious  man,  but 
he  did  n't  want  to  be  troubled  with  the  boys, 
and  said  if  I  married  him  they  must  all  be 
bound  out  as  soon  as  they  were  seven,  and 
I  could  n't  bear  to  think  of  that.  Did  you 
say  Flora  didn't  like  it?"  she  asked  after 
looking  for  her  knitting-bag,  which  hung  on 
her  arm  the  while. 

"Not  at  all." 

"That 's  very  strange.  I  shall  talk  to  her 
about  it.  She  ought  not  to  object  if  I  don't, 
and  I  'm  sure  no  one  loved  poor  Orlando 
more  than  I  did.  But  I  know  if  he  were 
here  that  he  would  be  the  first  one  to 
rejoice  in  it.  He  was  so  very  unselfish. 
Where  is  she? " 

"  She  has  gone  to  bed,  and  I  think  she 
had  better  not  be  disturbed." 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Rand;  "let  her  sleep  it 
off;  and  you,  Mrs.  Butler,  you'd  better  be 
goin'  to  bed  yourself.  She  always  goes  to 
bed  early  society  evenings,  she  gets  so 
tired,"  she  explained,  and  Mrs.  Butler,  who 
was  evidently  accustomed  to  obey  her  com- 
panion, after  a  little  more  fussing,  departed. 

"I  guess  the  old  lady's  mind  is  beginnin' 
to  fail,"  said  Mrs.  Rand,  cheerfully,  after 
18 


274          BROTHERS  AArD  STRANGERS. 

she  had  gone.  "  She  gets  very  confused 
now  whenever  she's  tired." 

"  She  cannot  be  old  enough  for  that ! " 
said  Arthur,  starting. 

"She  is  young  to  break  up,"  said  Mrs. 
Rand,  "but  she 's  worked  hard  in  her  clay, 
and  I  guess  she  wa'  n't  never  very  strong." 
Mrs.  Rand  was  fond  of  Mrs.  Butler,  and 
appreciated  her  comfortable  position  with 
her,  but  it  was  her  wont  to  hail  all  happen- 
ings with  a  sort  of  desperate  cheerfulness. 
She  went  on :  "I  wish  Jonah  would  let  her 
alone;  he  keeps  writing  for  money  all  the 
time." 

"  Does  she  send  it  ?  " 

"Gracious,  no!  I  don't  let  her  have  any. 
She  got  a  letter  from  him  this  morning,  and 
that  kinder  put  her  out.  I  wrote  and  told 
him  to  ask  you  himself.  I  guess  he  won't 
do  that  yet  awhile.  It 's  them  Hewsons 
that  put  him  up  to  it ;  and  it  makes  her  feel 
real  bad  that  they  should  act  so  when  they  're 
church  members.  I  was  real  provoked  that 
it  should  happen  to-day  when  Florer  was 
comin',  because  she  's  been  lookin'  forward 
to  that.  Florer  pets  her  up,  you  see,  and 
does  a  lot  cf  things  for  her  that  I  can't  get 
time  for,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  'd  have  the 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.          2?$ 

patience  to  fiddle  with  them,  neither,"  con- 
cluded Mrs.  Rand,  stopping  to  take  breath. 

"  I  am  afraid  Miss  Shepherd  will  not  be 
able  to  do  anything  to-morrow.  Please  do 
not  let  her  be  disturbed." 

"Oh,  she  '11  get  over  it!  Girls  have  their 
fancies,  and  Florerhas  no  end  of  'em,  though 
she  's  the  nicest  girl  I  ever  seen  by  a  long 
chalk.  She  '11  be  all  right  to-morrow." 

Arthur  did  not  feel  so  sure  of  that;  and 
when  he  had  drunk  a  cup  of  Mrs.  Rand's  tea, 
with  accompaniments  more  appetizing  than 
he  was  used  to  there,  he  left  the  house  to 
its  early  darkness,  and  wandered  disconso- 
lately off  to  believe  himself  by  unburdening 
as  many  of  his  cares  as  he  could  bring  him- 
self to,  to  Dr.  Griscom,  — the  process  being 
easier  for  his  conviction  that  his  confidant 
knew  a  great  deal  more  than  he  was  told. 

The  doctor  thought  Mrs.  Butler  far  from 
strong,  but  did  not  know  why  with  care  she 
might  not  live  for  many  years;  "and  you  are 
doing  all  you  can  for  her,"  he  wound  up. 

"  Yes  —  I  am  doing  all  I  can  for  her, 
now. " 

"You  always  did  that." 

Arthur  said  nothing,  and  the  doctor 
looked  for  something;  further  to  follow  to 


2/6          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

account  for  his  visitor's  evident  low  spirits, 
and  listened  with  a  more  lively  interest  to 
the  second  part  of  his  tale. 

"So!  Ida's  going  to  be  married  again!" 
he  commented.  "Well  —  well!  I  shouldn't 
have  thought  she  'd  have  wanted  to  do  it  quite 
so  soon.  I  suppose  you  didn't  either?" 

"  Hardly.  I  don't  know  that  she  wants 
to  now,  but  Mr.  McCall  wants  to  have  her, 
there  is  no  doubt  of  that." 

"Poor  child!  I  don't  suppose  she  ever  did 
know  what  she  wanted;  she  never  had  the 
chance.  If  she  had  ever  had  her  own  way 
she  might  know  how  to  take  it  now." 

"I  think  she  will  have  some  chance  of 
learning." 

"Yes?  Well,  if  she  isn't  happy  and  he 
too,  it  will  not  be  her  fault.  She  is  a  dear 
little  thing,  but  hardly  strong  enough  to  go 
through  all  she  has.  Poor  Orlando  !  he  was 
a  good  fellow  if  ever  there  was  one.  They 
loved  each  other  fondly;  and  yet  if  she 
had  died  first,  — and  I  've  expected  it,  more 
than  once,  — most  likely  he  'd  have  married 
again.  There  's  hardly  a  country  minister 
that  has  n't  used  up  more  than  one  wife. 
Well — well  —  I've  done  it  myself;  but, 
Lord  help  us!  we  haven't  learned  yet  not 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          277 

to  expect  more  of  women."  The  doctor 
ran  on,  trying  to  dissipate  some  of  his  own 
wounded  feelings,  as  well  as  what  he  fancied 
were  his  companion's;  and  meeting  no 
response,  he  stopped  and  put  the  question 
direct:  u  How  does  Flora  like  it?" 

"  Not  at  all.  Indeed  I  fear  she  will  make 
herself  ill  over  it.  She  has  gone  to  bed 
now;  but  if  she  is  not  better  in  the  morn- 
ing I  wish  you  would  go  and  see  her." 

"Oh,  yes,  I'll  go  and  see  her;  but  you 
needn't  worry  yourself;  let  her  sleep  it  off, 
and  cry  it  off.  She  is  but  a  baby  yet;  she  '11 
have  to  live  and  learn,  like  the  rest  of  us; 
she'll  know  better  when  she's  older." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Arthur,  decidedly. 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  sudden 
change  of  expression,  "perhaps  she  won't, 
if  you  never  teach  her ! " 

Arthur  called  at  his  mother's  early  the 
next  morning,  but  Flora  was  not  visible. 
"She  says,"  said  Mrs.  Rand,  "that  she's 
got  too  bad  a  headache  to  get  up;  but  don't 
be  scared,  she  ain't  goin'  to  be  sick.  She  's 
real  silly!  I  bet  I  could  get  her  up  by 
scoldin'  her  a  bit;  but  somehow  I  don't 
make  no  good  hand  at  scoldin'  Florer." 

Arthur  lingered  disconsolately  about  till 


2/8  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

the  doctor  called,  and  went  upstairs,  where 
he  stayed  a  great  deal  longer  than  was  suffi- 
cient to  administer  a  dose  of  antipyrine, 
which  he  declared  was  all  the  medicine  his 
patient  needed.  But  when  he  came  down 
he  brought  with  him  two  open  notes,  one 
addressed  to  Ida,  the  other,  as  Arthur  rec- 
ognized with  a  great  throb  of  the  heart,  his 
own  first  letter  from  Flora.  They  ran  as 
follows:  — 

LIVERPOOL,  Oct.  29,  188-. 

DEAR  MR.  BUTLER,  — I  am  very  sorry  that  I  cannot 
see  you  again  before  you  go.  Thank  you  for  com- 
ing here,  and  all  your  kindness.  I  have  written  to 
Ida.  Will  you  please,  if  it  is  not  too  much  trouble, 
read  it,  and  if  you  do  not  think  it  says  what  is  just 
right,  destroy  it,  and  tell  Ida  I  will  write  as  soon  as 
I  am  able.  I  do  not  know  just  what  to  say,  but  I 
don't  want  to  make  her  unhappy.  Pray,  tell  her 
so,  and  give  her  my  best  love.  I  am  very  sorry 
that  you  are  going  to  have  all  the  care  and  trouble 
about  this,  and  that  I  have  made  you  more  instead 
of  helping  you  any. 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

FLORA  MARY  SHEPHERD. 

LIVERPOOL,  Oct.  29,  188- 

DEAR  IDA,  —  Please  don't  mind  if  I  cannot  come. 
I  do  hope  you  will  be  happy,  I  do  indeed ;  and  if 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.  279 

my  coming  would  make  you  any  more  so,  I  would 
try,  but  I  know  it  would  not.  I  am  afraid  I  am 
not  fit  to  be  at  any  place  where  every  one  ought  to 
be  cheerful.  I  wish  I  were,  for  I  do  love  you  — 
you  know  I  do  —  just  as  much  as  ever,  and  I  am 
sure  you  do  me.  You  have  been  away  in  new 
places,  and  among  new  people,  and  it  is  not  strange, 
perhaps,  that  things  look  different  to  you.  I  sup- 
pose Jast  year  seems  a  long  time  ago  to  you,  but  oh  ! 
to  me  it  is  like  yesterday.  J  cannot  help  it,  though 
perhaps  I  ought.  Kiss  my  darling  Landy  and 
Flossy  for  me  a  thousand  times,  and  tell  Mr.  Mc- 
Call  I  wish  him  all  happiness.  I  am  sure  he  is  a 
good  man,  or  Mr.  Butler  would  not  have  been 
willing  you  should  marry  him.  God  bless  you 
dearest ! 

From  your  ever-loving  sister, 

FLORA. 

P.  S.  Mr.  Butler  has  said  all  you  could  have 
wished  him  to,  in  the  very  kindest  way. 

FROM    ARTHUR    TO    FLORA. 

LIVERPOOL,  Oct.  29,  188-. 

DEAR  Mrss  SHEPHERD,  —  Thank  you  very  much 
for  your  note,  and  for  letting  me  see  that  to  your  sis- 
ter, which  I  shall  give  her,  as  I  do  not  see  how  you 
could  write  differently.  It  is  much  the  best  way 
to  be  truthful,  if  it  hurts  at  first.  I  will  see  that  she 
fully  understands.  I  am  very  sorry  to  leave  with- 


2 80    BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

out  seeing  you  again,  but  must  go  to-night,  as  I 
have  important  engagements  for  Monday.  Dr.  Gris- 
com  has  promised  not  to  let  you  go  back  to  Cold 
Spring  until  he  thinks  you  quite  able,  and  to  write 
to  me  how  you  are,  or  I  could  not  go. 
Your  devoted 

ARTHUR  BUTLER. 

Arthur  would  have  liked  to  treat  his  reso- 
lution by  sending  some  flowers  with  this 
note,  but  did  not  feel  that  he  had  the  right  to 
expose  Flora  to  the  comments  and  inquiries 
of  his  mother  and  Mrs.  Rand,  and  he  jour- 
neyed back  to  Boston,  reading  and  re-reading 
her  two  little  notes,till  the  one  to  Ida  began  to 
show  too  visible  signs  of  wear.  He  had  them 
by  heart,  but  it  was  refreshing  to  touch  the 
paper  her  hands  had  held.  These  letters 
were  the  only  gifts  that  had  ever  passed  be- 
tween them,  and  as  he  folded  hers  away  in 
an  inner  compartment  of  his  note-case,  never 
to  leave  him  till  he  had  another,  he  smiled 
rather  sadly  at  his  own  sentimentality,  and 
then  wondered  where  Flora  would  keep  hers. 

He  found  Ida  lovely,  bright,  and  beam- 
ing after  four  days  of  Mr. 'McCall's  society 
without  the  memento  mori  of  his  own  pres- 
ence. It  seemed  cruel  to  plunge  her  at  once 
into  successive  depths  of  surprise,  disap- 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          28 1 

pointment,  and  despair.  For  the  next  six 
weeks  his  own  worry  and  harass  were  dis- 
tracting. Ida  wished  her  wedding  to  be 
indefinitely  postponed,  and  showed,  without 
losing  an  iota  of  her  sweetness  and  gentle- 
ness of  manner,  more  strength  of  will  than 
he  had  given  her  credit  for.  It  was  he 
himself  who  put  his  to  bear  down  hers,  and 
as  might  be  expected,  successfully.  He 
felt  that  things  had  now  gone  too  far  for 
such  a  step  to  be  properly  taken,  and  that 
her  betrothed  husband's  claims  could  not 
be  ignored.  He  was  powerfully  seconded 
by  Mr.  McCall,  of  whom  his  opinion  was 
highly  raised  before  the  wedding  came  off. 
That  he  should  show  no  jealousy  of  Arthur, 
in  or  out  of  Ida's  presence,  though  it  spoke 
him  thoroughly  good  at  heart,  was  not  sur- 
prising; but  his  holding  back  himself  from 
all  active  persuasion,  and  leaving  his  cause 
in  the  other's  hands,  evinced  diplomatic 
talent  which  one  would  hardly  have  given 
him  credit  for.  He  gained  immensely  by  it, 
as  Ida's  interviews  with  Arthur  were  all 
marked  by  tears  and  arguments,  and  those 
with  him  by  soothing  and  consolation.  She 
drew  nearer  to  him  through  it  all,  and  when 
at  last  on  a  bright  frosty  morning  in  early 


282          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

December,  Arthur  led  her  up  the  aisle  of 
the  great  empty  church  to  meet  the  quietest 
and  smallest  of  wedding  parties,  she  looked, 
under  all  her  modest  shrinking,  a  sufficiently 
willing  bride  to  gladden  a  bridegroom's 
heart.  The  sorrow  at  her  sister's  absence, 
which  softened  her  eyes  with  liquid  dew, 
and  sent  one  or  two  drops  down  the  blushing 
roses  of  her  cheeks,  was  only  deep  enough 
to  simulate  well  a  maiden's  becoming  regret 
at  leaving  home.  She  had  never  looked  more 
beautiful,  perhaps  because  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  was  beautifully  dressed,  —  in 
rich  cloth  of  the  palest  silvery  gray,  trimmed 
with  costly  gray  fur,  and  a  picturesque  beaver 
hat  and  feathers  to  match,  with  delicate  rose 
satin  showing  in  the  lining,  to  match  the 
pale  pink  roses  in  her  hand,  —  all,  and  much 
more,  Arthur's  last  gifts  to  his  now  fondly 
loved  sister,  the  only  one  to  whom  he 
acknowledged  such  a  tie.  He  remembered 
certain  dreams  of  one  day  giving  such  things 
to  Flora,  —  since  grown  more  vague  and 
doubtful ;  and  as  he  watched  the  heavy  ring 
slide  on  to  Ida's  small  hand,  where  the 
slender  little  token  of  her  first  marriage  had 
been  smothered  in  gold  and  gems,  he  felt 
as  if  it  marked  the  snapping  as  well  as  the 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  283 

binding  of  a  tie.  He  had  not  much  time  to 
think  before  it  was  over,  and  Mrs.  Hamlin 
McCall  was  surrounded  by  all  her  enrap- 
tured aew  relations.  The  newly  married 
pair  were  to  set  out  from  the  church  door 
for  New  York,  where  the  Anson  McCalls 
were  to  meet  them  the  next  week  with  Miss 
Meade  and  the  children,  who,  according  to 
their  mother's  very  decided  wish,  were  not 
present  at  the  ceremony. 

The  bridegroom  was  in  no  way  disturbed 
that  his  bride  at  parting  clung  to  her 
brother-in-law  in  a  shower  of  tears.  "  Come 
on  to  New  York  next  week,  Arthur,"  he 
said  heartily,  "and  visit  us  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue,  and  we'll  have  a  regular  blow-out 
in  honor  of  this  wedding.  She  '11  be  all 
ready  to  celebrate  it  by  that  time,  I  know; 
hey,  Ida?  There,  you've  got  to  leave  him 
some  time  or  other;  but  he  shall  put  you 
into*  the  carriage  —  he  deserves  it;  "and  he 
himself  turned  on  the  step  after  his  wife 
was  in  to  give  Arthur  an  emphatic  shake  of 
the  hand,  with,  "'Twill  be  your  turn  next, 
I  hope." 

Arthur  looked  after  them,  conscious  of 
some  relief  that  the  thing  was  fairly  over. 
He  was  tired  out  by  the  strain  of  it,  and  not 


284          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

at  ,all  disposed  to  take  up  the  dreary  post- 
festal  tasks  of  paying  the  bills,  closing  the 
cottage,  and  storing  the  furniture.  He  had 
much  to  do  that  usually  falls  to  a  woman's 
share,  and  he  had  not  even  a  woman's  advice. 
He  did  not  accept  the  invitation  to  New 
York;  but  his  labors  were  enlivened  by  the 
following  letters:  — 

FROM    MRS.    BUTLER    TO    ARTHUR    BUTLER. 

LIVERPOOL,  Dec.  14,  188-. 

MY  DEAR  ARTHUR,  —  We  have  been  much  ex- 
cited at  the  arrival  of  dear  Ida  and  her  good  hus- 
band. They  stopped  at  Syracuse  with  the  darling 
children,  Miss  Meade,  their  worthy  governess,  and 
Christine,  their  French  nurse,  who  seems  an  excel- 
lent person,  though  a  Catholic,  —  a  delightful  party. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  McCall  rode  out  with  the  children  to 
see  us  that  very  afternoon,  and  they  asked  Mrs. 
Rand  and  me  to  spend  the  very  next  day  at  their 
hotel  with  them  ;  also  Flora,  whom  they  had  tele- 
graphed to,  and  who  had  come  here  to  meet  them  ; 
which  she  could  do  very  well,  as  it  was  Friday.  I 
told  them  I  seldom  went  into  such  gay  scenes,  and 
they  must  excuse  me.  But  Mr.  McCall  would  not 
take  no  for  an  answer,  and  Ida  came  out  by  herself 
the  next  morning  in  a  splendid  carriage  drawn  by 
two  horses,  and  took  us  first  to  the  cemetery,  where 
we  visited  our  lot  —  where  dear  Orlando's  remains 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          285 

and  those  of  his  precious  babe  repose.  She  seemed 
much  affected,  and  said  she  should  bring  her  chil- 
dren the  next  time  they  came  East ;  just  now  she 
thinks  them  too  young  to  understand. 

Mr.  McCall  is  a  noble-looking  man,  and  a  true 
Christian ;  he  paid  me  the  very  highest  honor  and 
respect,  not  looking  down  on  my  humble  cottage, 
though  so  wealthy.  I  hope  he  will  not  be  more 
extravagant  than  a  Christian  should  be.  I  was  al- 
most alarmed  at  the  elegant  dresses  worn  by  Ida ; 
she  said  you  gave  them  to  her.  I  fear  you  did 
not  remember  what  snares  such  things  are  to  the 
soul. 

The  children  are  much  grown  and  improved.  I 
think  Miss  Meade  a  very  fine  lady,  though  much 
grieved  to  find  out  that  she  was  a  Unitarian,  —  a 
sect,  I  believe,  much  like  the  Universalists  here,  and 
foes  to  Evangelical  truth.  I  wish  you  had  chosen 
otherwise,  —  even  an  Episcopalian  would  have  been 
better  than  one  who  is  not  a  Christian  at  all ;  but 
she  seems  a  lady  of  great  learning,  and  was  very 
kind  and  affable  to  me. 

Dear  Ida  was  full  of  kind  attentions  to  us  all,  and 
rejoiced  especially  at  meeting  her  beloved  sister  after 
so  long  a  separation.  She  brought  Flora  and  me 
many  lovely  gifts  from  New  York,  —  a  beautiful 
black  satin  dress  piece  for  me,  and  a  copy  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  beautifully  illustrated  by  a  talented 
young  Frenchman,  named  Dore ;  and  an  exquisite 
little  cabinet  from  Japan,  —  knowing  how  much  I 


286          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

have  always  been  interested  in  the  narratives  of  the 
missionaries  about  that  lovely  but  benighted  land. 
She  gave  Flora  a  white  silk  for  a  gown,  which  she 
said  would  wash,  and  a  gold  brooch,  and  an  elegant 
box  with  brushes  and  combs,  and  other  articles. 
Oh,  and  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  she  gave  us  both  her 
photograph  and  the  children's,  and  Mr.  McCall's. 
Flora  did  not  wish  to  take  the  presents,  but  Ida  felt 
so  unhappy  about  it  that  at  last  she  consented.  I 
hope  Mr.  McCall  did  not  think  her  ungrateful. 
She  has  very  peculiar  ideas.  He,  and  Ida,  too,  are 
very  earnest  that  she  shall  go  and  live  with  them, 
but  she  positively  refuses.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  urge 
her  not  to  neglect  such  advantages,  but  cannot  be 
sorry  to  have  the  dear  girl  remain  so  near  me, 
though  she  will  not  come  here  nearly  as  often  as  I 
want  her  to. 

I  am  very  tired,  so  must  defer  till  another  oppor- 
tunity the  description  of  the  day  in  Syracuse,  and 
the  superb  dinner  at  the  hotel  in  a  private  dining- 
room.  John  and  Almira,  with  Laurea,  and  Dr.  Gris- 
com,  came  afterwards,  and  stayed  to  tea.  Ida  had 
presents  for  all  of  them,  and  some  to  send  to  Jonah 
and  his  wife.  I  am  happy  and  thankful  to  hear 
from  Jonah  that  he  has  joined  the  Baptist  Church, 
and  been  immersed,  as  I  told  you  he  intended,  and 
is,  I  hope,  walking  a  consistent  course ;  but  he 
seems  distressed  for  money.  I  hope  you  will  find 
it  in  your  power  to  help  him  with  a  little.  The  Lord 
has  blessed  you  with  prosperity ;  oh,  forget  him  not ! 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          287 

and  remember  that  he  may  be  sought  and  found, 
even  at  the  eleventh  hour ! 

From  your  affectionate  mother. 

FROM    IDA   TO    ARTHUR. 

Palmer  House,  CHICAGO,  Dec.  15,  iSS-. 

DEAREST  ARTHUR,  —  We  are  stopping  here  for  a 
few  days,  as  Mr.  McCall  has  business,  and  thought 
it  would  be  a  good  chance  to  show  us  the  city ;  so 
I  have  time  to  write  you  about  our  visit  to  Syracuse 
and  Liverpool.  I  could  not  then,  —  so  much  was 
going  on  all  the  time,  and  so  many  memories  were 
brought  back.  I  don't  know  that  I  should  have 
had  the  courage  to  stop  there,  though  I  did  so  long 
to  see  dear  mother  (I  shall  never  call  her  anything 
else)  and  dearest  Flora,  but  Mr.  McCall  was  so 
kind,  and  insisted  upon  it.  He  has  been  so  inva- 
riably good  and  kind !  I  wish  I  were  worthier  his 
love  and  care. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  felt  when  I  saw  the  dear 
old  place  again  once  more.  I  could  do  nothing  but 
cry,  and  Flora  too,  though  she  does  not  seem  to  feel 
quite  so  unhappy  as  I  have  feared  ever  since  I  first 
heard  from  her.  Oh,  it  is  such  a  relief  to  have  seen 
her  !  She  looks  beautiful,  but  rather  tired,  I  thought. 
I  felt  so  mean  to  have  her  working  away  at  school- 
teaching,  while  I  am  so  coddled  and  petted ;  but  it 
is  not  Mr.  McCall's  fault.  He  would  only  be  too 
thankful  to  have  her  come  and  live  with  us.  She 
will  not  consent  yet,  but  I  have  great  hopes  of  per- 


288          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

suading  her  in  time.     Can't  you  advise  her  to?   She 
thinks  so  much  of  your  judgment. 

Mr.  McCall  thinks  her  a  perfect  beauty.  I  hope 
she  really  likes  him.  She  says  he  seems  to  be  very 
nice  ;  but  one  must  live  with  him  to  know  how  really, 
truly  good  he  is.  He  did  not  at  all  wonder  that  I 
wanted  to  visit  the  sacred  spot  where  my  dear  ones 
are  laid,  and  said  he  thought  I  had  better  go  with- 
out him  this  time.  Sometime  we  will  bring  our 
children  together.  How  beautifully  you  have  had 
the  place  kept !  And  Flora,  too,  has  visited  it  often, 
and  seen  to  the  flowers.  I  could  not  help  feeling, 
as  I  stood  there,  that  dear  Orlando  knows  all,  and 
is  glad  with  and  for  me  and  his  children. 

I  found  dear  mother  looking  pretty  well ;  but  she 
seems  to  get  tired  and  confused  much  more  easily 
than  she  used  to.  Mrs.  Rand  seems  attached  to  her, 
and  is,  I  should  think,  an  excellent  person  to  be  with 
her.  I  hope  you  will  soon  go  and  visit  her,  for  she 
feels  lonely,  with  her  family  so  scattered.  Flora  has 
spent  another  Sunday  with  her,  which  is  a  great 
pleasure  to  them  both,  and  the  doctor  is  very 
attentive. 

Mr.  McCall  has  come  in,  and  wants  me  to  come 
out  for  a  drive  with  him  on  the  lake  shore.  The 
sleighing  is  very  fine  here  now,  so  I  must  go,  though 
I  have  a  great  deal  more  to  say ;  but  I  am  ever 
and  ever 

Your  grateful  and  loving  sister, 

IDA. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          289 

FROM    DR.    GRISCOM   TO    ARTHUR    BUTLER. 
LIVERPOOL,  Dec.  15,  188-. 

DEAR  ARTHUR,  —  I  suppose  you  have  heard  that 
we  have  had  the  bridal  party  here,  including  chil- 
dren, governess,  French  maid,  and  little  dog,  and 
I  won't  say  how  much  baggage,  but  Mr.  McCall 
appears  competent  to  engineer  it  all.  He  made  a 
pleasant  impression  here ;  and  "  little  madam,"  as 
he  calls  her,  seems  well  disposed  to  be  happy,  in 
spite  of  a  few  natural  tears.  She  looked  charm- 
ingly pretty,  and  was  as  sweet  and  affectionate  to  all 
her  old  friends  as  ever.  The  man  must  really  be 
excused  for  falling  in  love  with  her. 

It  was  a  hard  strain  on  poor  Flora,  but  it  did  not 
last  long,  and  she  behaved  very  well, — just  as  she 
should.  The  worthy  McCall  seemed  rather  amazed 
at  her  appearance.  He  was  very  ready  to  second 
all  Ida's  entreaties  about  her  living  with  them  ;  but  he 
told  me  privately  he  did  not  expect  her  to  accept 
them.  I  think  he  can  put  two  and  two  together  as 
well  as  most  men. 

Your  mother  enjoyed  the  meeting  very  much, 
but  felt  fatigued  afterwards.  She  seems  weaker 
than  I  thought,  and  shows  a  lack  of  recuperative 
power.  I  will  keep  my  eye  upon  her  without  alarm- 
ing her,  and  let  you  know  if  she  has  any  decided 
symptoms.  Meanwhile  believe  me 
Yours  very  truly, 

BENJAMIN  F.  GRISCOM. 


2QO          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


FROM   JOHN    BUTLER   TO    ARTHUR    BUTLER. 
CUBITT   AND  BUTLER,   CHINA   PARLORS. 

SYRACUSE,  N.  Y.,  Dec.  29,  iSS-. 

DEAR  ARTHUR,  —  I  write  to  say  that  mother  has 
had  what  seems  to  be  a  paralytic  stroke.  The  doc- 
tor sent  for  me,  and  asked  me  to  telegraph  you,  but 
I  thought  it  hardly  worth  the  expense,  as  she  has 
rallied  some  and  is  in  no  danger  just  yet,  and  I 
did  n't  know  as  you  would  care  to  come  on  so  soon 
again.  She  can  speak,  though  not  very  plain,  and 
she  asks  to  see  you,  but  Almira  thinks  she  don't 
know  what  she  's  talking  about. 

Mrs.  Rand  says  she  thinks  she  's  been  running 
down  for  some  time,  though  she 's  been  going 
about  to  church  and  everywhere.  The  doctor  says 
she  may  live  a  good  while  yet,  but  this  was  a  pretty 
serious  one  for  the  first ;  so  I  don't  look  to  see  her 
ever  get  back  to  where  she  was  before.  Mrs.  Rand 
says  she  must  have  some  one  to  help  her,  but  Al- 
mira thinks  she  could  get  along  perfectly  well,  as 
mother  is  very  quiet ;  but  I  don't  suppose  Mrs. 
Rand  will  stay  without  some  one,  or  more  pay.  I 
don't  know  how  you  will  feel  about  it.  I  am  sorry 
I  can't  do  more  at  present  than  I  am  doing.  I  paid 
for  all  the  repairs  on  that  house  last  year,  except 
putting  in  water  upstairs,  which  you  can't  call  a 
repair  exactly ;  and  I  've  had  a  great  deal  to  do  to 
my  own  house  this  year,  besides  enlarging  the 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          2QI 

store.  Very  likely  Ida's  husband  would  do  some- 
thing if  he  was  asked.  He  seems  rich,  though 
Almira  says  it  may  be  all  show ;  but  they  do  dash 
out,  there's  no  mistake.  Ida  looked  stunning 
when  she  was  here.  I  should  ask  them,  at  any 
rate. 

There  is  no  other  news  here,  except  that  the 
Hewsons  are  going  to  California,  and  Jonah  and 
his  wife  with  them.  They  are  going  to  join  a  Bel- 
lamy co-operative  colony.  I  don't  suppose  it  will 
last  long,  as  they  've  got  Jone  in  it ;  but  as  some  of 
them  were  fools  enough  to  put  in  money,  it  may 
keep  up  a  year  or  two.  Almira  sends  her  love. 
Please  write  soon  and  tell  me  what  to  say  to  Mrs. 
Rand.  With  regards  of 

Your  brother, 

JOHN  BUTLER. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

ARTHUR  spent  his  New  Year's  Eve  in 
the  night  train  for  misnomered  Syra- 
cuse, whose  shabby  station  loomed  up,  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  early  winter  morning, 
darker  than  ever  against  the  pure  whiteness 
of  the  freshly  fallen  snow-drifts,  whiter 
than  the  quarried  marble  of  her  ancient  fore- 
runner. He  did  not  go  near  his  brother, 
whom  he  had  no  wish  to  meet  till  all  his 
arrangements  were  made,  but  took  his  way 
with  as  little  delay  as  possible  to  Liverpool 
and  to  his  mother's  house,  where  Mrs.  Rand 
greeted  him  with,  "Well,  Mr.  Butler!  I 
didn't  think  you'd  be  here  so  soon!  but 
I  'm  glad  you  've  come,  and  that 's  a  fact." 

"  How  is  my  mother?" 

"  She  ain't  much  changed  since  she  was 
first  took.  Seems  as  if  she  felt  worse  to-day 
than  usual,  because  Florer's  just  gone." 

"  Miss.  Shepherd  has  been  here,  then?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Rand,  who  looked  as  if  she 
thought  this  ceremonious  address  a  waste  of 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          293 

breath ;  "  she  come  as  soon  as  she  heard  your 
ma  was  sick,  and  stayed  here  till  to-day.  She 
could,  you  know,  because  it  was  vacation- 
time.  I  don't  know  what  I  'd  done  without 
her;  she  can  make  out  what  Mrs.  Butler 
wants  better  'n  I  can.  School  don't  begin  till 
day  after  to-morrow,  but  she  would  n't  stay 
because  she.  said  you'd  be  sure  to  come.  I 
suppose  she  thought  you  'd  want  her  room ; 
that  is,  I  '11  take  it,  and  give  you  mine,  for 
hers  opened  into  your  ma's.  If  you  '11  set 
with  the  old  lady  a  bit,  I  '11  tidy  up  —  that  is, 
unless  you  want  your  breakfast." 

"  I  have  had  it,  thank  you.  You  must  not 
let  me  incommode  you.  I  can  get  a  lodging 
out" 

"  I  'd  full  rather  you  'd  stay  here,  at  least 
till  I  see  what 's  going  to  be  done.  I  'd  as 
soon  not  be  in  the  house  with  her  alone,  over 
night." 

"You^must  have  some  one  to  help  you, 
certainly;  that  is,  if  you  wish  to  stay.  My 
brother  wrote  that  you  might  perhaps  want 
to  leave." 

Mrs.  Rand  gave  an  inarticulate  snort  of 
contempt.  "  Yes,  pretty  likely  that  I  'd  be 
leavin'  just  as  she  's  took  sick !  I  'd  thank 
Almirer  not  to  be  sayin'  things  about  me. 


294          BKOTHEAS  AND  STRANGERS. 

No,  I  '11  stay  and  see  Mrs.  Butler  through,  if 
I  'm  spared  myself.  She  and  I  was  always 
good  friends.  I  told  'em  I  knew  you  'd  do 
what  was  proper,  and  they  need  n't  bother 
themselves." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  I  will  stay 
till  something  is  decided." 

"  Florer  's  going  to  see  if  she  can  get  Lena 
Snyder  to  come  and  wash  to-day;  she's  a 
good  hand  to  work,  and  perhaps  she  'd  stay, 
if  she  was  asked.  She  —  " 

"  I  thought  you  said  Miss  Shepherd  had 
gone  back  to  Cold  Spring,"  Arthur  contrived 
to  get  in. 

"  Yes,  she  's  gone ;  the  doctor  was  a-goin' 
to  drive  her,  and  she  said  she  'd  stop  at 
Snyder's  on  the  way.  The  doctor  '11  be  back 
at  dinner-time,  if  you  want  to  see  him,"  went 
on  Mrs.  Rand,  as  she  led  the  way  upstairs. 

Arthur  sat  with  his  mother  an  hour  or 
two,  while  Mrs.  Rand  bustled  in  ^and  out, 
until  Lena  Snyder,  a  short,  apple- cheeked 
German  woman,  arrived,  and  tying  on  her 
blue-checked  apron,  set  to  work  in  a  matter- 
of-course  fashion,  and  Mrs.  Rand  came  up  and 
released  him.  It  was  weary  work  to  sit  by 
Mrs.  Butler,  who  looked  pleased  to  see  her 
son  at  first,  and  again  whenever  she  took 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          295 

cognizance  of  his  presence ;  but  she  seemed 
trying  with  painful  effort  to  keep  her  mind 
at  a  point  from  which  it  would  perpetually 
slide,  just  as  she  was  endeavoring  to  make  her 
words  understood,  evidently  aware  that  some- 
thing was  the  matter,  though  uncertain  what 
it  was,  or  whether  it  was  in  herself  or  her 
hearer. 

"  They  sober  down  and  get  quieter  when 
they  get  used  to  it,"  said  Mrs.  Rand ;  "  she 
won't  be  so  restless  long.  Now  what  is  it,  — 
your  handkerchief ?  No?  She '11  use  one  word 
when  she  means  another,  till  you  've  gone 
through  everything  you  can  think  of,  and  per- 
haps tain't  any  of  'em.  Florer  could  under- 
stand her  real  quick —  oh,  it 's  her  she  wants," 
as  the  patient  struggled  to  get  out  the  name, 
and  succeeded.  "Well,  she  can't  come  now; 
she  's  got  to  go  back  to  school ;  but  she  '11 
be  comin'  back  on  Sabbath-day.  Now,  Mr. 
Butler,  you  'd  better  go  down  and  have  your 
dinner,  —  it 's  all  ready ;  and  I  '11  set  with  her. 
Most  likely  she  '11  go  to  sleep  soon." 

"  Did  Miss  Shepherd  say  she  would  come 
back  on  Sunday?"  inquired  Arthur,  as  she 
followed  him  to  the  door. 

"No,  she  didn't;  but  gracious!  your  ma 
don't  know  what  day  it  is.  There  ain't  no 


296          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

harm  in  tellin'  her  things.  She  '11  have  for- 
got it  all  when  Sunday  comes." 

Arthur  was  not  so  sure  of  that.  There 
was  a  sense  to  him  of  comprehension  in  the 
questioning  imprisoned  soul.  He  had  no 
appetite  for  his  lonely  dinner;  but  as  he 
walked  to  the  doctor's  the  fresh  keen  air  set 
every  nerve  thrilling  with  the  joy  of  health 
and  strength.  There  was  a  difference  in  be- 
ing out  under  the  cloudless  blue  heaven, 
upon  the  shining  white  earth,  which  seemed 
so  much  wider  than  when  it  was  green,  and 
being  shut  in  by  prison  walls  that  must  nar- 
row day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour.  He 
would  do  what  money  could  to  alleviate  his 
mother's  condition ;  but  that  seemed  like 
nothing  at  the  moment. 

The  doctor's  house  was  a  good  one,  one  of 
the  best  in  the  place,  and  boasted  of  a  double 
parlor  with  sliding  doors ;  but  since  the  last 
Mrs.  Griscom  had  died,  and  the  last  Miss 
Griscom  had  married,  this  apartment  was 
rarely  entered.  The  doctor  inhabited  his 
office  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall,  in  front 
of  the  dining-room,  where  for  a  brief  space 
after  his  early  dinner  he  was  once  in  a  while 
to  be  found,  —  his  only  approach  to  office- 
hours.  He  was  not  there  now,  and  the  only 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          297 

person  waiting  was  a  young  lady,  who  looked 
up  as  the  door  opened. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Shepherd?  I  did 
not  expect  to  find  you  here." 

"  No,  I  have  been  waiting  for  the  doctor 
since  nine  o'clock.  I  expected  him  long  be- 
fore now." 

"  I  suppose  he  is  never  certain." 

"  No,  but  he  promised  to  take  me  back ; 
he  will  come  home  sometime  to-day,  at  any 
rate." 

"  A  re-assuring  prospect !  "  said  Arthur, 
gravely,  seating  himself  in  the  doctor's  own 
arm-chair.  "Have  you  had  any  dinner?" 
for  she  looked  pale  and  tired. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Prince  said  that  it  was  a  pity 
some  of  it  should  not  be  eaten  before  it  was 
cold,  and  that  very  likely  the  doctor  would 
get  his  out  somewhere,  and  come  back  in  a 
hurry  to  be  off." 

"  He  leads  a  hard-worked  life,  does  he 
not?" 

"I  think  he  likes  it,"  said  Flora.  It 
seemed  each  time  a  great  effort  for  her  to 
speak,  but  she  went  on :  "  How  did  you  find 
Mrs.  Butler?" 

"  Much  the  same  as  when  you  saw  her,  I 
suppose ;  only  she  misses  you  a  great  deal." 


298          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Then,  as  she  made  no  answer:  "It was  very 
kind  in  you  to  go  there." 

"  I  could  not  help  it." 

"  How  was  Ida  when  you  last  heard  from 
her?" 

"  Very  well ;  has  she  not  written  to  you 
since  she  went  to  Kansas  City?  " 

"  Yes,  once  ;  of  course  she  is  very  busy. 
I  do  not  expect  her  to  keep  it  up." 

"  There  is  the  doctor,"  said  Flora,  with  an 
air  of  relief. 

"How  do  you  do,  Arthur?  I  did  not  ex- 
pect to  find  you  here.  Well,  Flora !  tired  of 
waiting?  It's  too  bad.  I've  been  at  Van 
Buren,  where  one  of  the  Germans  chose  to 
keep  his  ScJiutzcnfcst  last  night  with  an  old 
gun  that  burst  when  it  went  off,  and  I've 
been  probing  him  for  the  pieces.  Oh,  he  '11 
get  over  it ;  he 's  a  tough  customer,"  as  Flora 
grew  paler.  "  They  Ve  not  been  starving 
you  here,  have  they?  Let  me  have  a  snack, 
for  I  'm  hungry,  and  I  '11  drive  you  back 
directly.  Your  mother  is  n't  worse,  Arthur, 
is  she?" 

"  No ;  I  only  wanted  to  ask  you  a  few 
questions  about  her." 

"  Come  and  sit  by  me  for  five  minutes 
while  I  have  my  dinner;  I've  no  time  to 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          299 

lose,  —  three  or  four  calls  to  make  on  my 
way  back." 

"  You  had  better  let  me  drive  Miss  Shep- 
herd to  Cold  Spring,  if  she  does  not  object; 
that  will  save  you  time,  and  of  course,  be 
very  agreeable  for  me." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  —  much  better. 
It  will  give  me  time  to  eat  my  dinner  like  a 
Christian.  I  '11  tell  them  to  harness  Fly  into 
the  cutter  for  you ;  he 's  rather  slow,  but 
you  Ve  got  the  afternoon  before  you  ;  and 
Jessie,  when  she  's  had  her  oats,  will  do  well 
enough  for  me  in  the  pung.  .Flora,  my  dear, 
you  don't  object,  do  you?  "  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  as  he  left  the  room. 

Flora  resignedly  drew  on  her  jacket  and 
buttoned  her  gloves,  and  when  the  cutter 
came  to  the  door,  she  let  the  doctor  help  her 
in,  and  settle  the  rug  carefully  round  her  feet, 
without  a  look  at  Arthur.  There  was  intense 
delight  in  being  with  him,  and  she  was  not 
going  to  refuse  anything  he  might  ask;  but 
she  longed,  as  so  many  women  have  longed 
in  vain,  to  be  understood  as  well  as  loved. 
Sometimes  she  had  felt  that  she  was;  but 
she  knew  she  could  not  expect  it  now. 

"I  hope  you  do  not  mind  my  coming  with 
you,"  he  began,  when  they  were  well  clear 
of  the  village. 


300          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"  No,"  said  Flora,  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  If  I  had  not  found  you  here,  I  should 
have  come  to  Cold  Spring  to  see  you."  Then 
after  a  pause,  which  she  did  not  break  :  "  You 
have  seen  the  state  my  mother  is  in.  I  cannot 
tell  how  long  it  may  last.  The  doctor  says  a 
few  years,  but  not  many.  She  needs  some 
one  to  care  for  her,  and  she  has  no  daughter. 
There  is  no  one  she  loves  better  than  she 
does  you.  She  will  know  you  and  want  you 
as  long  as  she  wants,  anything.  And  then, 
do  you  remember  what  you  said  to  me  when 
you  and  I  last  met,  —  that  you  could  not  bear 
to  have  Orlando  forgotten?  You  do  not  for- 
get; you  are  unhappy  because  you  cannot. 
I  thought  perhaps  you  would  be  glad  to  have 
a  chance  to  do  something  for  him  still." 

"  I  should  be,  very,"  said  Flora,  with  a 
great  sigh  of  relief. 

"  And  I  thought,"  he  went  on,  —  "  forgive 
me  if  I  am  wrong,  —  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  last  time  that  you  were  sorry  for  me,  and 
that  you  felt  that  I  had  a  little  reason  to  be 
hurt  on  my  own  account  by  Ida's  marriage. 
I  thought  perhaps  you  would  like  to  do  some- 
thing, you  don't  know  how  much,  for  me; 
something  I  could  never  do  for  myself." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  should  !  " 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          30! 

"  Will  you  come  and  live  with  her  and  take 
care  of  her?  Don't  promise  till  you  under- 
stand. If  you  come,  you  must  let  me  give 
you  all  you  need  ;  you  can't  live  quite  on 
nothing,  Don't  be  frightened,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing ;  "  I  shall  not  give  you  more  than  I 
should  any  one  else  who  was  equally  compe- 
tent,—  perhaps  less,  for  I  don't  know  any  such 
person;  but  I  shall  not  let  you  wear  your- 
self out ;  that  would  be  foolish,  when  I  have 
enough  to  provide  you  with  proper  help.  If 
you  come,  will  you  let  me  arrange  these 
things  as  I  think  best,  and  trust  me  that  it 
is  so?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Flora,  very  low. 

Arthur  and  Flora  were  wont  in  their  after 
life  to  look  back  upon  the  period  that  now  be- 
gan for  them  as  a  happy  one,  though  of  such 
happiness  as  rarely  comes  to  youth  ;  more 
like  the  quiet  days  of  late  middle  life,  when 
without  age's  feebleness  there  is  something  of 
age's  peace.  They  never  planned  what  their 
lives  were  to  be  when  it  was  over,  sure  only 
that  they  were  to  be  spent  together.  They 
never  asked  how  long  it  would  last,  for  Mrs. 
Butler  failed  so  surely,  though  slowly,  that 
they  knew  it  could  not  be  very  long.  Flora, 


302          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

indeed,  could  have  wished  it  longer,  were  it 
not  for  her  charge's  sake,  as  the  pleasures  of 
second  childhood  began  to  grow  weariness. 
For  herself,  her  daily  life,  with  its  little  eddies 
of  interest  round  a  chair,  and  then  around  a 
bed  ;  its  regular  relaxations  of  air  and  exercise ; 
its  long  quiet  evenings,  when  she  wrote  her 
daily  letters  to  Arthur,  and  read  the  books  he 
sent  her ;  the  periodical  excitements  of  his 
visits,  and  her  drives  and  walks  with  him,  were 
as  full  of  happiness  as  she  could  dream  that 
earthly  life  might  be.  She  did  not  picture 
to  herself  what  was  to  come  beyond  it,  any 
more  than  she  did  what  heaven  was  like  ; 
only,  she  longed  to  be  more  worthy  of  it 
before  it  came,  and  tried  with  reading  and 
study,  and  learning  all  he  would  teach  her  of 
the  ways  and  customs  of  society,  to  fit  herself 
for  being  Arthur's  wife.  As  for  Arthur,  he 
knew  that  no  effort  he  could  make  would 
ever  make  him  fit  to  be  Flora's  husband.  It 
is  hard  to  "climb  up  the  high  and  rugged 
barriers  "  of  heaven,  but  harder  far  to  stoop 
to  it.  He  hoped  that  knowing  his  unworthi- 
ness  was  at  least  a  first  step,  and  the  rest  of 
the  way  he  thought  she  must  show  him.  If 
he  enjoyed  the  time  of  waiting  less  than  she, 
he  never  betrayed  any  impatience,  and  found 


BROTHERS  AND   STRAA'GERS.          303 

his  consolation  when  away  from  her  in  writ- 
ing to  her,  working  for  her,  saving  for  her. 
No  pledge  was  asked,  no  promise  given,  till 
two  years  and  more  of  watching  were  passed, 
and  then  when  the  funeral  was  over,  and  they 
had  returned  together  to  the  lonely  house, 
and  stood  together  in  the  empty  room,  all 
Arthur  said  was:  — 

"  Flora,  I  know  that  mother  would  care  for 
nothing  but  to  have  us  happy.  She  would 
not  wish  us  to  wait.  How  soon  shall  we  be 
married?  " 

And  Flora  answered :  "  Whenever  you 
please." 

Arthur's  relations  and  the  Liverpool  public 
in  general  were  not  surprised,  as  they  had 
long  accepted  the  evident  fact  that  "  Arthur 
Butler  and  Flora  Shepherd  were  keepin'  com- 
pany ; "  neither  were  the  McCalls.  Mr.  McCall 
had  growled  furiously  when  he  first  heard  of 
the  arrangement  for  Mrs.  Butler's  behalf,  de- 
claring it  to  be  a  piece  of  meanness  on 
Arthur's  part  of  which  he  never  could  have 
believed  him  guilty.  "  Could  n't  he  hire  a 
trained  nurse  for  the  old  lady  instead  of 
getting  it  out  of  Flora?  I  declare,"  he 
wound  up,  "  I  '11  write,  and  offer  to  pay  for 
one  myself." 


304          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"  Flora  writes  as  if  she  were  glad  to  go," 
said  Ida,  tearfully.  "  Oh  dear  !  she  will  never 
come  here  now  !  " 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  she  will.  I  suppose 
when  his  mother  's  dead,  he  '11  condescend  to 
marry  her,  and  she  '11  take  him  with  thanks." 

"  Hamlin  !  you  must  not  say  such  things  !  " 

"  Well,  well,  he 's  a  good  fellow  enough 
in  his  way, —  just  the  kind  that  girls  fall  head 
over  ears  in  love  with  because  they  put  on 
airs,  while  we  poor  fellows  who  do  our  best 
to  please  you,  have  to  stand  your  airs  —  hey, 
little  madam ! " 

Ida  appeased  her  husband's  wrath  by  ca- 
resses and  soft  words,  suppressing  meanwhile 
some  anxieties  of  her  own  in  the  subject; 
which,  however,  were  laid  to  rest  when  she 
met  her  sister  and  Arthur  again. 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          305 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

do  you  think  has  bousht  tne 

house  at  the  corner?  "  inquired  one 
of  the  cousins  in  Miss  Curtis's  drawing-room. 
It  was  late  in  the  autumn,  and  all  the  Curtis 
connection  had  come  back  to  town,  and  were 
running  in  and  out  of  one  another's  houses, 
eager  as  the  Athenians  of  old  to  hear  and  to 
tell  some  new  thing.  No  one  topic  had  the 
slightest  chance  of  monopolizing  attention, 
and  the  question  was  speedily  submerged  in 
a  torrent  of  talk,  —  "  Smiths  going  abroad  — 
Joneses  come  back — Fanny  Tiffany  really  en- 
gaged,—  Nelly  Mallory  really  not  —  "  before 
some  one  found  breath  or  time  for  "  The 
house  on  the  corner,  —  some  one  bought  it, 
did  you  say?  " 

"  Symphony  tickets  all  gone  —  where  are 
yours?  —  mine  shocking — will  not  go  under 
the  balcony — anything  better  than  too  far 
forward  —  "  ran  on  the  talk. 

"Yes,  — Arthur  Butler  has  bought  it,  I 
hear." 


306          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

^'Nothing  to  wear — children  in  rags  — 
perfectly  destitute  —  "  buzzed  the  female  por- 
tion of  the  gathering  ;  the  persons  alluded  to 
not  being  any  indigent  proteges,  but  them- 
selves and  their  own  well-fed,  healthy  off- 
spring, fresh  from  rural  sports. 

"  Indeed  !     Arthur  must  be  doing  well." 

"  He  's  married,  is  he  not?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Curtis ;  "  he  was  married 
in  the  spring.  Why,  did  n't  you  get  his 
cards?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  had  some  cards,  —  I  don't 
know  what  became  of  them ;  they  had  no 
address  on  them." 

"  No,  they  went  abroad  directly,  so  I 
heard." 

By  this  time  the  topic  of  Arthur  Butler 
and  his  marriage  had  risen  to  the  top  of  the 
wave,  and  all  the  duets  and  trios  of  conver- 
sation merged  in  one  grand  scene.  Mrs. 
Curtis  remarked  that  "  since  they  had  come 
to  live  so  near,  right  in  the  midst  of  every- 
body, she  supposed  we  must  call." 

"  Yes,  and  send  them  presents,"  said  Ros- 
amond Perry. 

"  Rather  late  in  the  day,  is  n't  it?  "  drawled 
her  husband. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  young  lady, 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          307 

decidedly.  "  Arthur  Butler  sent  me  a  lovely 
one  when  we  were  married." 

"  I  sent  him  one  as  soon  as  I  received  the 
cards,"  said  Miss  Curtis. 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Rachel,  you  always  do  so 
exactly  what  you  ought !  But  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  a  sufficient  excuse  that  they  went  off 
so  soon." 

"  Well,"  acquiesced  Tom,  lazily,  "  better 
late  than  never." 

"  I  will  ask  them  to  the  wedding,"  said 
Frances  Curtis,  loftily ;  "  that  is,  to  the  church, 

—  I  don't  know  about  the  house." 
"Anybody   know   anything   about    her?" 

asked  Tom  Perry,  who  liked  news,  but  was 
too  lazy  to  pick  them  up  for  himself. 

"  I  hear  she  's  some  ordinary  sort  of  a  girl 
from  that  country-place  where  he  came  from, 

—  somewhere    in    New   York  —  what 's     the 
name?"  said  Miss  Snow,  a  purveyor  of  gos- 
sip for  genteel  society,  and  a  self-constituted 
toady  to  Miss  Curtis,  who  did  not  like  her, 
but  thought  it  her  duty  to  help  her,  as  she 
was  poor  and  needed  it. 

"  Dear  me,  what  a  pity !  "  said  Rosamond. 

"  Yes,"  said  her  husband,  "  a  low  match  is 
the  ruin  of  a  man.  I  didn't  think  Arthur 
Butler,  somehow,  was  the  sort  of  fellow  to  do 
such  a  thing." 


308          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

"What  kind  of  a  note  did  she  write  when 
you  sent  them  your  present?  "  asked  Frances. 

"  Arthur  wrote,  — very  nicely,  as  he  always 
does,"  replied  her  cousin, 

"  Very  likely  she  does  n't  know  how  to 
write  a  note ;  that  is  apt  to  be  their  stum- 
bling-block," said  Miss  Snow,  who  thought  she 
knew  enough  of  the  family  affairs  to  be  sure 
that  these  remarks  would  please. 

"  It  is  a  very  foolish  thing,"  said  Rosa- 
mond, "  if  he  has  made  a  mesalliance,  for 
them  to  take  that  house.  It  is  always  a  mis- 
take for  a  man  to  try  and  drag  a  woman  up, 
when  she  has  n't  it  in  her.  Now,  Aleck 
Silsbee  showed  some  sense  when  he  married 
a  shop-girl ;  he  went  and  lived  in  Somerville, 
and  went  with  the  people  there." 

"  This  girl  was  the  nurse,  I  believe,  who 
took  care  of  his  mother,  when  she  was  ill ; 
she  died  last  spring,"  said  Miss  Snow. 

"  She  was  a  clergyman's  daughter,  the 
newspapers  said,"  said  Miss  Curtis,  shortly; 
"  Reverend  —  I  forget  the  name  —  Shepherd, 
of  some  town  in  New  Hampshire." 

"  That 's  not  saying  much,"  said  Rosamond. 

"  Perhaps  she  was  a  trained  nurse ;  some 
of  them  are  quite  lady-like,"  said  Miss  Snow, 
in  despair  at  the  dark  cloud  settling  on  her 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          309 

patroness's  brow ;  and  she  did  her  best  to 
change  the  subject,  —  not  in  time  to  save  her- 
self from  the  displeasure  of  Miss  Cuftis,  to 
whom  all  these  hits  were  so  many  stabs. 
Sophy,  she  saw,  took  them  with  perfect  calm- 
ness, but  then  she  really  believed  sometimes 
that  the  disappointment  had  not  been  so 
great  to  Sophy  as  it  was  to  her.  She  thought, 
and  rightly,  that  when  she  knew  him  no  wo- 
man had  ever  come  nearer  to  Arthur  Butler 
than  herself.  Though  he  had  been  unseen 
and  unmentioned  for  years,  his  place  had  not 
been  —  could  never  be — filled,  and  the  feel- 
ings which  the  chance  familiar  sound  of  his 
name  stirred  up  showed  her  that  he  was  still 
dear. 

Miss  Curtis  and  Sophy  had  prolonged  their 
stay  abroad  to  two  years  and  a  half;  and 
when  they  came  back  it  was  summer,  —  every 
one  was  scattered  ;  and  when  they  took  up 
the  threads  of  their  old  life  Arthur's  was  not 
the  only  one  missing.  In  spite  of  all  the 
attractions  of  the  lady's  lot,  it  looked  less 
roseate  than  a  few  years  ago,  when  her 
dreams  of  her  own  future  linked  with  Ar- 
thur's and  Sophy's  were  so  bright.  One  had 
disappointed  her,  and  though  the  other  was 
the  same  good  girl  as  ever,  yet  their  inter- 


310          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

course,  by  the  necessity  of  avoiding  one  prom- 
inent subject,  and  care  not  to  touch  on  painful 
allusions,  had  grown  less  frank  and  free  than 
of  old.  Since  their  return  from  abroad  they 
had  seen  less  of  each  other,  and  in  a  less  con- 
fidential way.  The  Curtis  family  had  greatly 
enlarged  its  borders.  Rosamond  had  two 
more  children,  and  Frances  was  going  to  be 
married,  and  Willie's  engagement  was  just 
announced,  and  Lucy  was  coming  out  this 
fall ;  while  in  the  other  branches  the  changes 
were  almost  past  reckoning.  In  all  these 
experiences  Miss  Curtis  and  Sophy  must 
lend  sympathy  and  help,  while,  with  the  inevi- 
table tendency  of  love  to  run  downward, 
Sophy's  mind  was  now  much  taken  up  with 
the  rising  generation  of  nephews  and  nieces, 
while  her  parents  had  grown  older,  and 
needed  her  more  at  home  as  the  other  girls 
married  off.  Miss  Curtis  began  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  to  realize  the  fact  that  she 
was  growing  old  herself. 

She  said  nothing  more  then,  but  the  very 
next  day  she  quietly  walked  off  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Arthur  Butler.  She  did  not  ask  Sophy's 
or  any  one's  company,  for  she  thought  that 
whether  her  first  impressions  were  pleasant 
or  unpleasant,  she  would  rather  have  them 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          311 

over  by  herself.  The  house  was  a  pretty,  new 
one,  finished  and  fitted  to  suit  the  purchaser's 
taste;  and  Miss  Curtis  liked  the  looks  of  the 
drawing-room,  though  it  did  not  at  all  resem- 
ble that  of  other  newly  married  couples  of  her 
acquaintance;  perhaps  for  that  very  reason. 
The  furniture  was  some  of  it  old,  all  of  it 
good,  but  it  was  barely  more  than  necessary 
in  quantity,  and  there  was  a  marked  defi- 
ciency of  bric-a-brac,  dear  or  cheap.  "  Not 
many  wedding-presents,"  she  thought;  "a  pity, 
but  then  how  should  there  be  ! "  She  knew  she 
had  given  a  silver  tea-set,  as  pretty  a  one  as 
she  could  choose;  and  the  Hamlin  McCalls, 
though  this  she  did  not  know,  had  spared  no 
expense  in  the  forks  and  spoons  ;  but  these 
were  not  gifts  that  could  be  displayed  with- 
out occasion,  and  there  were  but  few  others. 
Perhaps  the  room  gained  by  reflecting  the 
individual  taste  of  its  owner,  rather  than  the 
reflected  taste  of  the  owner's  friends  and 
acquaintances.  Almost  everything  in  it  had 
been  bought  by  Arthur  himself,  from  the 
hour  when  he  had  first  felt  that  he  could 
afford  to  spend  a  few  of  his  savings  in  that 
way,  through  the  later  years,  when  with 
Flora's  image  in  his  mind,  he  had  selected 
surroundings  for  her,  up  to  the  time  when 


312  BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS. 

they  had  chosen  a  few  things  together 
abroad. 

"  I  should  know  the  room  was  Arthur's  if 
I  saw  it  in  Japan !  "  thought  Miss  Curtis  as 
she  looked  around  on  the  pictures,  the  books, 
even  the  writing-things.  "  I  wonder  what 
her  taste  is  like,  or  if  she  has  any !  At  any 
rate,  the  room  looks  homelike,  and  as  if  she 
let  him  live  in  it." 

So  short  a  time  did  her  hostess  keep  her 
waiting  that  she  found  herself,  in  the  midst 
of  her  observations,  shaking  hands  with  a 
young  lady  who  was  saying,  "  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you." 

"  And  I  am  very  glad  that  I  am  fortunate 
enough  to  find  you  at  home,"  said  Miss 
Curtis.  She  tried  to  add  something  kind 
and  encouraging  to  relieve  the  shyness  she 
thought  the  young  stranger  might  be  feel- 
ing, but  stopped,  suddenly  struck  silent.  It 
seemed  incredible  that  she  should  not  have 
heard  of  Mrs.  Arthur  Butler  before,  no  matter 
how  low  the  latter's  position,  or  how  far  off 
she  lived.  She  was  keenly  alive  to  beauty  in 
all  shapes,  and  Flora  was  as  much  more  beau- 
tiful now  than  when  she  had  first  opened  the 
door  for  Arthur  as  four  years  of  life  and  love 
could  make  her.  "  It  is  not  to  be  expected," 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  313 

thought  Miss  Curtis,  "  that  any  man  could 
keep  from  falling  in  love  with  such  a  girl  as 
this  !  — but  it  is  a  pity,  —  it  must  have  made 
him  overlook  so  much  else  !  " 

"  Arthur  has  often  spoken  to  me  about 
you,  and  all  your  great  kindness  to  him," 
said  Flora.  Miss  Curtis  could  not  tell  why 
these  simple  words  gave  her  so  much  pleas- 
ure, but  she  rallied  from  her  surprise,  and 
answered :  — 

"  I  may  call  myself,  I  hope,  an  old  friend 
of  your  husband's,  though  we  have  not  met 
so  much  lately." 

"  Arthur  has  missed  you ;  and  he  hoped, 
when  we  came  to  live  so  near  you,  that  he 
should  see  you  sometimes." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  meet  a  great  deal,"  said 
Miss  Curtis,  her  astonishment  increasing  at  the 
rashness  with  which  she  was  making  advances 
at  the  very  outset.  She  checked  herself,  and 
as  she  looked  about  for  some  suggestion  to 
change  the  subject,  her  eye  fell  on  a  chromo- 
lithograph in  a  slightly  worn  frame,  hanging 
above  an  old-fashioned  writing-desk,  evidently 
belonging  to  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

"  I  dare  say  you  remember  that,"  said 
Flora,  following  her  glance;  "it was  one  that 
you  once  sent  Mrs.  Butler  by  Arthur;  it 


314          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

always  hung  in  her  room,  and  when  she  was 
shut  up  so  long  she  enjoyed  looking  at  it  so 
much." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  —  and  I  am  glad  you  like 
to  keep  it  here." 

"  Yes,  I  grew  very  fond  of  it.  When  we 
went  abroad  Arthur  took  me  straight  to 
Florence  to  see  the  original,  and  all  the 
others  of  his  that  we  could." 

"I  suppose  you  had  a  delightful  journey; 
but  of  course  you  did." 

"  We  enjoyed  it  very  much ;  but  we  were 
glad  to  get  home.  It  is  so  long  since  Arthur 
had  any  home,  you  know." 

"  Your  home  looks  like  a  charming  one, 
and  I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy  in  it. 
You  must  let  me  say  that  I  have  always 
thought  that  Arthur's  wife  would  be  a  very 
fortunate  woman." 

She  began  to  feel  that  her  youthful  hostess's 
beauty  was  rendered  almost  too  impressive  by 
the  gentle  gravity  that  seemed  a  little  strange 
in  her  position,  and  longed  to  see  her  face 
lighted  by  a  smile.  But  perhaps  some  lurk- 
ing memories  of  her  own  made  her  own 
speech  earnest  in  tone ;  and  Flora  replied,  "  I 
am  sure  of  that,"  in  like  manner. 

Miss  Curtis,  irresistibly  attracted,  went  on  : 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.  315 

"  Now  that  we  are  both  settled  I  hope  that 
you  and  Arthur  will  come  and  dine  with  me 
sociably, — with  no  one  else  but  perhaps  a  rela- 
tive or  two,  —  let  us  say  on  Thursday,  if  you 
have  no  engagement.  We  can  learn  to  know 
each  other  so  much  sooner,  if  you  will 
come ;  don't  try  to  call  first,  if  you  are  very 
busy." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Flora,  "  we 
have  been  nowhere.  It  is  so  short  a  time 
since  Arthur  lost  his  mother  ;"  and  she  looked 
down  on  her  severely  plain  but  exquisitely 
made  black  dress. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  that  prevent  you !  "  inter- 
rupted her  visitor.  "  You  see,"  she  went  on, 
"  it  is  not  as  if  you  knew  more  people  here. 
It  is  not  good  for  you  to  be  entirely  shut  up. 
Most  people  have  relations  among  whom 
they  can  go  about  a  little;  can't  you  con- 
sider me  as  one?  I  should  be  so  pleased  if 
you  would  treat  me  as  your  aunt,  if  you  only 
had  one  here." 

"  Thank  you ;  since  you  are  so  kind,  we 
shall  be  very  glad  to  come,"  answered  Flora, 
immediately.  "  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to 
Arthur,  as  well  as  to  me." 

Miss  Curtis,  struck  with  consternation  at 
her  own  temerity  in  adopting  another  niece 


316          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

on  the  spot,  was  yet  forced  to  go  on  with, 
"  And  would  you  not  like  to  come  and  read 
with  me  and  one  or  two  others  on  Wednes- 
day mornings?  Only  a  few  intimate  friends. 
We  have  not  begun  our  meetings  yet,  but  we 
propose  to  have  Signer  Corticelli  read  Dante 
to  us  in  the  original.  I  do  not  know  whether 
you  read  Italian  ?  "  She  paused,  again  alarmed 
at  the  involuntary  throwing  open  of  her  most 
inner  circle.  "  But  some  of  us  do  not,  and  will 
follow  with  a  translation,"  she  added,  fearful 
of  being  supposed  to  assume  superiority. 

"  You  are  very  kind ;  I  should  enjoy  it  very 
much,  if  I  did  not  keep  the  others  back ;  and 
Arthur  will  be  very  glad  that  I  have  the 
chance.  He  likes  me  to  read  Italian,  but  I 
never  had  any  real  teaching,  except  for  the 
little  time  we  were  in  Italy  last  spring." 

"  Had  you  studied  it  before?  " 

"  Arthur  sent  me  the  books,  and  I  got  on 
as  well  as  I  could  alone.  I  had  learned  a 
little  Latin,  and  that  helped  of  course." 

"  You  must  be  very  persevering." 

"  Arthur  was  so  pleased,  I  could  not  help 
being." 

"  Well !  "  thought  Miss  Curtis,  "  I  wonder 
how  long  Arthur  has  been  educating  this 
child ! "  A  burning  desire  seized  her  to 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          317 

know, —  it  might  help  to  clear  up  some  points 
on  which  she  must  ever  be  doubtful ;  and 
yielding  to  a  sudden  impulse  and  angry  with 
herself  the  next  moment  for  having  yielded 
to  what  she  felt  to  be  intrusive  curiosity,  she 
said :  "  You  and  Arthur  were  engaged  a  long 
time,  were  you  not? 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Flora,  with  so 
much  simplicity  that  Miss  Curtis,  while  she 
felt  that  she  had  received  a  rebuff,  could  not 
suppose  that  it  was  intended  for  one.  Flora, 
who  really  did  not  know,  saw  no  reason  for 
not  saying  so;  but  she  thought  she  ought 
to  show  more  confidence  in  so  old  a  friend, 
and  continued, "  We  met  each  other  first  four 
years  ago  last  spring." 

Miss  Curtis  rapidly  travelled  backwards  in 
her  mind.  "  It  was  destiny  !  "  she  thought, 
"  and  that  is  all  that  can  be  said.  I  only 
wonder  why  he  waited  so  long !  "  but  she 
could  ask  no  more  questions.  The  past 
had  best  be  buried,  with  all  its  regrets.  She 
made  no  effort  in  bidding  Flora  farewell  in 
the  very  kindest  manner,  and  it  was  a  com- 
fort —  she  could  hardly  understand  why  it 
was  so  great  a  one — to  receive  as  kind  a 
response.  They  parted,  it  might  be  called 
affectionately,  and  Miss  Curtis,  as  she  trod 


318          BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

the  pavements,  marvelled  at  herself,  and 
thought  she  must  be  bewitched.  She  went 
into  her  cousin's,  thinking  that  to  formulate 
her  impressions  in  words  might  help  her  to 
be  more  sure  of  them. 

"  I  have  been  to  call  on  Mrs.  Arthur  Butler," 
she  announced  to  the  very  fair  representation 
of  the  family  who  were  present. 

"Oh,  have  you?  how  exciting!  What  is 
she  like?  "  asked  Rosamond. 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  Miss  Curtis,  glad 
to  borrow  Flora's  answer. 

"  Is  she  pretty?  "  asked  Frances. 

"  Pretty !  "  repeated  Miss  Curtis,  in  supreme 
disgust ;  "  pretty?  no,  indeed." 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Rosamond,  "  I  never 
thought  that  Arthur  Butler  would  marry  an 
ugly  girl !  I  should  really  like  to  see  them 
together ;  it  would  be  funny." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Frances,  "  Richard  Wil- 
kinson, who  met  them  the  other  day,  said  she 
was  pretty." 

"  Richard  Wilkinson  calls  every  girl  pretty 
that  is  not  actually  deformed,"  said  Rosa- 
mond, scornfully. 

Miss  Curtis  turned  from  them  in  lofty  pity 
for  their  ignorance.  "  They  are  coming  to 
dine  with  me  on  Thursday,"  she  said  to  their 


BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS.          319 

silent  elder  sister;  "will  you  come,  Sophy, 
and  meet  them?  I  think,"  she  added,  "that 
you  will  like  her." 

Sophy  accepted  very  pleasantly.  She  had 
none  of  the  proverbial  fury  of  a  woman 
scorned  against  Arthur,  and  felt  none  of  the 
natural  feminine  satisfaction  in  his  wife's  pos- 
sible plainness  or  awkwardness.  She  would 
have  liked  her  successful  rival  to  be  a  worthy 
one. 

The  joys  of  our  maturer  age  are  oftenest 
those  which  youth  despises,  even  when  it 
possesses  them  ;  and  when  Sophy's  heart  was 
thrilling  with  just  recognized  love,  responding 
to  a  preference  so  plainly  shown  by  Arthur 
Butler,  it  might  have  sounded  cheerless 
enough  to  her  to  be  told  that  one  of  the 
principal  sources  of  her  future  happiness  was 
to  be  a  very  tender  and  life-long  friendship 
with  Arthur  Butler's  future  wife ;  but  so  it 
was,  and  the  friendship  was  all  the  stronger 
because  so  much  less  was  expressed  than  was 
felt ;  because  it  rested  on  an  unseen  founda- 
tion of  forgiveness,  and  sacrifice  none  the  less 
real  that  it  was  compulsory.  Arthur  was  not 
without  his  part  in  the  latter ;  for  Flora,  as 
he  had  foreseen,  was  never  to  know  the  secret 
he  would  fain  have  told  her. 


32O  BROTHERS  AND  STRANGERS. 

Miss  Curtis,  too,  found  that  Arthur's  soci- 
ety and  his  successes  and  his  family  life 
were  still  to  make  one  of  her  life's  best  satis- 
factions, though  differently,  indeed,  from  what 
her  hope  had  pictured.  She  was  relieved,  if 
somewhat  ashamed,  to  find  how  soon  she 
could  dearly  love  the  unconscious  interloper ; 
perhaps  the  more  because  about  Flora  there 
was  a  slight  veil  of  mystery  which  heightened 
her  charm.  No  one  could  be  in  the  company 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arthur  Butler  without  being 
sure,  not  only  that  they  loved  each  other 
with  an  entire  and  perfect  devotion,  but  that 
their  mutual  sympathy  was  so  profound  that 
the  exclusiveness  of  love  gave  way  in  them 
to  a  union  in  their  friendships  which  gave 
these  a  double  fervor  ;  and  no  one  knew  this 
better  than  Miss  Curtis  ;  but  all  this  being 
true,  surely  Flora  should  look  happier. 

"  Not  that  she  looks  unhappy,"  thought 
Miss  Curtis,  as  for  the  hundredth  time  she 
studied  the  calm,  pathetic  sweetness  of  her 
young  neighbor's  expression,  "  but  if  I  were 
a  man  I  don't  think  I  should  like  my  wife 
to  look  like  that.  To  be  sure,"  she  always 
wound  up,  "Arthur  seems  satisfied,  and  if 
he  is,  surely  every  one  else  ought  to  be  — 
only  —  " 


BROTHERS  AND   STRANGERS.          $21 

Arthur  was  satisfied.  Flora  was  his  ;  and 
to  know  how  entirely  she  was  so  stimulated 
him  as  well.  He  knew  that  if  she  were  not 
happy  it  was  because  there  must  be  some- 
thing better  than  happiness,  and  that  she  had 
found  it.  He  could  wait  for  time  to  bring  all 
lesser  blessings  too,  and  for  her  own  babies 
in  her  arms  to  awake  the  sleeping  smiles 
about  her  lovely  mouth. 


THE  END. 


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